


As The World Falls Down

by idrilhadhafang



Series: The Daughter of The Suns [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Dark Character, Darkfic, F/M, Gen, NaNoWriMo, dark obi-wan, jedi padme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-01
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-20 00:23:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 31
Words: 64,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/579252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idrilhadhafang/pseuds/idrilhadhafang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's nearing the end of the Clone Wars. For now Jedi Knight Padme Naberrie, she never imagined that things would get more complicated than they have already, and yet they have. In between keeping the secret of Obi-Wan and Sabe's marriage, being manipulated by Sidious, and so many other things, will Padme stay true to the light? Or will she fall to the Dark Side?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: How We Died

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Naboo. This was where I was born. I can still remember it so well even here -- that beautiful planet with its sparkling lakes and the bluest skies. I can remember so well the fields of grass and the sparkling waterfalls. I can still remember so well the feeling of the sun on your face when you ran through the fields, or simply sat down to talk with someone you loved, or with someone who was just a friend of yours.

I can still remember everything so very clearly, which makes it all the harder to take. My name is Padme Naberrie. For years, I served in the service of our deceased queen Sabe Amidala, perhaps one of the best queens we ever had. One of the best queens Naboo has ever known -- kind and clever and compassionate and genuinely caring about us and simply seeking to make Naboo better. I was only a girl when I served in her service, only fourteen years old, really. It was something that frequently worried my parents, if only because they didn't want me to end up dying young. And I can still understand why. After all, it couldn't have been easy for them knowing that their youngest was in the service of the queen, where she could possibly be killed.

Little did they know that their youngest would someday become a Jedi. Which is what happened one day. A mere handmaiden, found by Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi, only to be offered to be trained in the ways of the Force. The Council wasn't entirely happy with this new development, especially considering that from what I gathered at the time, things such as this hadn't been done for, quite honestly, a very long time. Things like this went against the Jedi Code, if only because from what I learned from my Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi, children typically were trained from infancy to be Jedi. I will admit this disconcerted me at first, especially considering...well, what about the mothers? What would they think? I can only suppose that I should have seen the signs that there was something wrong in the Order, and yet I didn't want to. Because in truth? The truth would have been too terrible for anyone to take. Especially when a long time friend and partner fell.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was never someone I thought would fall. This kind, honorable Jedi Knight, dedicated to upholding the peace -- I never thought that he would ever fall. I never thought that I would be on my own in the end either.

And yet here I am. On the run, far away from those I care about, only hoping that I can survive.

My name is Padme Naberrie, former General of the Clone Wars. And this...if you're wondering why I'm telling this story, this story that could most likely get me killed if it was released to the public, or if the Emperor knew...I have no intention of letting the Emperor know that I'm doing this. I'm merely telling this story, right here, right now, so you can know how the galaxy ended. It's quite obviously not a happy tale. Filled with betrayal and power-lust and so many other things. But it is the truth. This is the story of how we died.


	2. Chapter One: The Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Padme and Obi-Wan embark on the mission to rescue Chancellor Palpatine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

The skies of Coruscant blazed with war. From down below, some would have found it beautiful, if in an odd way, the streaks of fire in the amber sky, the faint hum of something that sounded faintly like gnats. From the inside, however, it was a different story entirely. The gnats were fighters and ships of all kinds, in a desperate battle for survival, and in the center of it all were Jedi Knights Padme Naberrie and Obi-Wan Kenobi.

The two could not have been more of a study in contrast. While Kenobi's approach to the war had been calmer, really, more controlled and peaceful and almost Jedi-like, Naberrie's approach was more spontaneous and ingenious, finding little details that others would overlook. Finding loopholes and weaknesses; her ability to think on her feet was a perfect contrast to Kenobi's more controlled demeanor. Together, they had managed to crush Separatist forces on so many worlds, though always at heavy prices. Padme knew, for example, even finding ways to blast Separatist ships out of her path, that she had never truly expected something like this to come to pass. Full out war. She, like most denizens of Naboo, was not one for war. She had preferred to negotiate in the past instead of fight, but when the time came, she would fight, no matter what the cost, be what it was.

And sweet Force had there been a cost. Padme had had to bear witness to many good people dying. Steela, for example, in the attempt to take back Onderon. They had saved Onderon, yes, but at the cost of so many good, wonderful people who had their lives ahead of them and honestly, deserved far better lives than anyone could really give them.

Which was one reason, Padme thought, that rescuing Palpatine, Chancellor of the Republic, was so important. It wasn't just that he was what Dooku was to the Separatists (to use quite a bad example considering what Dooku had actually done), but it was also the fact that Padme would not, under any circumstances, let any more good people die.

From over her communications system, Obi-Wan's voice sounded with its distinctive Coruscanti accent, a result of being raised in the Republic all his life. "Do you see it?"

"Yeah. Straight ahead. The one crawling with vulture droids."

Of all the opponents they had fought during the Separatist crisis, General Grievous was possibly one of the worst. A hulking beast of pure durasteel, Grievous was responsible for some of the worst of the Separatists' atrocities. Every planet razed, every Jedi massacred, every wanton slaughter -- while there were multiple others who were all too happy to do such things, whether it be out of a misguided sense of following the cause or sheer enjoyment or lust for revenge or blood or anything else, Grievous was perhaps the worst. And to think his durasteel claws had closed around Palpatine --

 

"You're losing focus." Obi-Wan's voice now, softer. "Don't do that. Concentrate on the here and now, my young Padawan."

"I know, Master." Even now, even though she was a Jedi Knight and he was on the Council (and a very overdue assignment to the Council at that!), he still seemed to not have broken the habit of thinking of her as the headstrong Padawan he had once trained. And to be fair, it wasn't as if she had stopped thinking of him as her Master either. In truth, the two of them hadn't seemed to have gotten tired of referring to one another as Master and Padawan, to say the very least. It seemed to be a reminder, at least in times like this, that no matter how much had changed, this, quite honestly? This was not one of them, and it never really would be.

Padme sighed. "I guess it's just...I never thought this would happen."

"Of course not." Obi-Wan sounded actually quite understanding, Padme thought; for a moment, she thought that he would most certainly say something like, "Well, of course it would, my young Padawan." After all, wonderful and kind as Obi-Wan was, he did have that tendency at times to get self-righteous. It wasn't always a bad thing, especially when he was trying to make a point (not that it always crossed Padme's mind, but sometimes, he wasn't even trying to be self-righteous, really), but it was always quite grating in one way or another.

Still, there was something about it that Padme supposed wasn't too bad. There was something actually quite gentle about it really. Almost as if, "Don't worry, Padawan. I understand." And that, Padme supposed, was a form of solace in one way or another.

Obi-Wan continued. "I doubt anyone was expecting a strike at the heart of the Republic itself, were you?"

"No," Padme said, "I didn't really think -- I mean -- " She hadn't expected the Separatists to be this bold. Assassination attempts on Sabe's life were one thing, but a direct, blatant invasion of the Republic itself and kidnapping the Chancellor before they could so much as formulate a plan...that was worse. That was something none of them had expected -- the Separatists striking before the Jedi could so much as come up with a plan to stop them.

Padme could only conclude that this, right here, right now, was their plan. Get to the vulture droid filled INVISIBLE HAND, rescue Palpatine in the middle of a mad Separatist fleet, and just to finish the job, at least in a sense, find a way to bring Dooku and his comrades to justice -- the last one especially. She also hoped that the last one would at least go off without the metaphorical hitch.

"Exactly," Obi-Wan said, "And the Chancellor was guarded by Shaak Ti and Stass Allie, some of the best Jedi of our age. Master Allie has even taught me a few tricks."

"Yeah. Still..." Padme sighed. "We should have been there. We really should have. Just to save him." It was told that a Jedi should focus on the present, remember the past, and let the future take care of itself. It was hard to do that when the past was pretty much the present, as was the future. The past being the events of Palpatine's capture, and the future being whether they would be on time to find him or not.

 

Padme only prayed it was the former. Otherwise, they would all be vulnerable.

"Oh. This is bad." Obi-Wan this time, along with some characteristic wryness mixed into his voice. At least her Master was somewhat back to normal. "Ray shields."

 _Stang._ "Let me take care of that." Padme turned her ship to target the places where the ray shield machine was being controlled, before firing. The ray shields went down.

"Well," Obi-Wan said, "Not bad. Very not bad indeed."

Padme smiled. "Now we just have to get into the hangar. Master, are you and Ar One ready?"

"Ready as we'll ever be," Obi Wan said, quite wryly, "And by which I mean very much not ready at all, but we'll leap to the challenge anyway."

"That's good." Not necessarily the "not ready" part, but the "ready to do it no matter what" part was quite nice. After all, they were the team. Naberrie and Kenobi. Kenobi and Naberrie. And no matter what happened, they would be ready.


	3. Chapter Two: The Long Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Obi-Wan and Padme infiltrate INVISIBLE HAND, and Dooku has a bit of a musing on the Republic and whatnot. Also, King Rash from the Onderon arc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

From outside, the space battle raged on. Now and then, an explosion caused the ground underneath Count Dooku to shake; it was only through much poise as well as practice that allowed him to at least somewhat keep his composure. Not that he minded. For Dooku, at the very least, the explosions of ships outside, the faint fading of life in the Force, every tremor in the Force -- to him, it was almost like art itself. No, not just art. It was pure brilliance.

It was almost a pity that Masters Mace Windu and Yoda weren't here. Not for the matter of the battle, but the matter of his vision. The sheer beauty of it. For years in the Clone Wars, he had been playing a sort of long game, playing a game of pawns and apprentices and whatnot, even putting up with the insufferable King Rash for Force knows how long.

Dooku had been more than grateful when he had, at least in a sense, been able to execute King Rash once the imbecilic false king had outlived his usefulness. The man would contribute nothing to the new Empire that Dooku would create in the future. The man would contribute worse than nothing. The man would do nothing but cripple the Empire before it so much had even begun. It would, truly, not be an immediate collapse, but a slow one. A game of falling sabaac cards -- a house of sabaac cards. One card pulled out, the rest would crumple far too easily.

Perhaps not in those terms. But Rash was not what Onderon needed. Dendup was. Perhaps he was counterproductive to Dooku's aims, but at the same time, at least he seemed to care about Onderon and its people, unlike Rash.

Sidious would disagree with him on that matter. After all, in Sidious' eyes, what good was power if one could not exploit it? Dooku knew that it wasn't the truth. Not by any stretch of the imagination. The Republic had already had enough of corruption; the galaxy had had enough of corruption. It would not happen again.

Not when his new Empire was put in place.

The Jedi would never truly understand what he sought to do, the sacrifices which he was forced to make if only for the greater good. The Jedi would never truly understand how corrupt the Republic truly was. The Jedi understood nothing of anything, and that would be their downfall.

There was a burst of static over the communications system, and to Dooku's chagrin (which was one benefit of comm systems; one could not see the utter contempt the other had for them), Grievous' voice came over it. "My lord wishes to see the progress of the Jedi?"

Dooku, to say the least, did not like Grievous. The beast was nothing but that -- an unrefined beast, a brute that sought to destroy everything in his path. Dooku supposed he could pity Grievous if only slightly, as he was as much a victim of the Republic's corruption as anyone else, but it did nothing to change anything. Still, he tried, if only slightly, to hide his contempt, and said, "Patch it in."

Grievous did.

Dooku could only watch as the two Jedi engaged in elevator shenanigans that would make a comedian acting out one of those so-called "comedic" skits in places such as, say, a Coruscanti nightclub filled with bored patrons with nothing better to do, quite embarrassed. He sighed, blearily rubbing his forehead. Kenobi was quite accomplished, and the Naberrie girl...he supposed he should admire what she had accomplished, but at the same time, there was something about her that irritated Dooku. Her blind belief in the Republic and the Chancellor was one thing. Her general idealism in all things...Dooku supposed he should admire her if only for that, and yet...

And here they were, blundering into a trap under the mistaken impression that it was only an average rescue mission. Dooku didn't know whether to be pleased or feel sorry for them for being this mindbogglingly stupid.

"It would be," Dooku said to the silhouetted figure in the chair, "An embarrassment to be captured by the likes of them."

"I would not be so quick to jump to such conclusions, Lord Tyrannus. After all, they are the best Jedi of their age, are they not?"

"So it has been told." Heroes of the Clone Wars... Dooku sighed. "I will admit I slightly miss Padawan Tano, Master. She was far smarter than the both of them."

"I would not go that far. She was intelligent, yes, but I would not go as far as to say that Naberrie and Kenobi are completely useless."

Dooku could only suppose that Sidious was correct. After all, Naberrie was the Chosen One, the Daughter of the Suns, destined to bring balance to the Force, and Kenobi was quite a skilled Jedi Master. He supposed that he missed Tano if only because of the remnants of that which had once been a Jedi Master. In another time, another galaxy...perhaps he would have been friends with them. Padme and Obi-Wan, getting to know the people his late apprentice cared about and had such faith in. And Ahsoka Tano, the young Togruta that was almost like a daughter to the both of them.

“Do you think that Knight Naberrie is the Chosen One, Master?”

“I have no doubt about it.” Sidious’ voice was quiet. “After all, she is more talented than most Jedi her age.”

“There are plenty more powerful,” Dooku said. “Master Yoda, for example.”

“But none with the amount of Force power and potential that she wields. It’s quite miraculous.”

Perhaps that was true. And yet at the same time... “The prophecy could have been misread, Master. It happens, at least at times.”

“She _is_ the Chosen One.” Sidious’ voice seemed to rise in volume, almost equally so in menace. “There is no doubt about it. She _will_ destroy the Jedi and bring balance to the galaxy as she was meant to.”

“Perhaps. But she would not turn to our side so easily. She’s too drenched in idealism and Jedi dogma.”

“She is young and idealistic. That idealism could be turned to suit our purposes.”

Even thinking about it was enough to make Dooku, at least for a moment, almost pity her. For all she may have done during the Clone Wars, Padmè Naberrie didn’t deserve the fate she did. Falling to the Dark Side, forcibly turning to their side. She deserved far better than that. Even in his mind, Dooku could already see it. Her, falling to the Dark Side and becoming Sidious’ slave. Unable to laugh, unable to cry, eventually – a creature in a hell of her own making.

For all her crimes during the Clone Wars, she deserved far better than this.

“Let me train her then, Master.”

“We will _both_ train her,” Sidious said. “Play your part well, my apprentice, and the galaxy will be ours.”

Dooku could already see it. The Empire built in place of the Republic – the masses cheering for their new liberation from the corruption and decadence of the Republic. The Republic and the Jedi Order had once been great, but they had fallen into decay. They had become that which they opposed – decadent, cruel, ruthless, and rotten to the core. Even the Order...even the Order wasn’t entirely flawless, Dooku thought. They had committed multiple counts of genocide, for one thing, violated someone else’s mind to turn them against their own followers, attempted to strip the Force from those they deemed “unnatural” and “wrong”...and then there was the matter of the Clone Wars. Dooku supposed he should have seen it coming when he had commissioned Jango Fett to lend his DNA to assist the clone army, but that hadn’t really made it any easier in terms of watching the Republic sacrifice the clones so needlessly.

And the Jedi...the Jedi were no better in that regard. He could still remember his conversation with Master Yoda, so long ago. _“Tell me, Master Yoda – are these clones, these men you so willingly sacrifice in the line of fire...are they going to thank you for teaching them that war is glorious?”_

_Yoda seemed thoughtful, if only for a moment. Even sad, and so very alone, as if remembering everyone who had died in the name of the Order, in the name of preserving the Republic’s tyranny. And then he spoke. “Forget you do, Dooku, that fight for peace and justice we do.”_

_“Peace through tyranny? Is that your new doctrine? Those who attempt to secede from the Republic for personal reasons or otherwise deserve to be punished?”_

_“Far from it. But prevent further loss of life, we must do.” Yoda looked up at Dooku now, and for a moment, in those large eyes, Dooku thought he could see the weight of years in the Grand Master. “Listen to me you must, Dooku. Though monstrous some of our acts are, done they must be, for the galaxy.”_

If only Yoda knew how thoroughly they were being played. If only Yoda knew how far the Order and the Republic both had truly fallen. If only Yoda knew something of just about anything.

Dooku could suddenly feel very familiar Force presences. Presences that he had felt before. He turned to Sidious. “Master?”

“Withdraw,” Sidious said, “They are here.” 


	4. Chapter Three: Will, Right, Responsibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Padme and Obi-Wan go to rescue Palpatine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. 
> 
> Author's Notes: Yeah, I'll admit I'm probably overusing that chapter title or something. Sorry.

They had made it. After all these trials and tribulations, they had managed to reach the General’s Quarters. Padmè sighed, turned to look, grinning, at Obi-Wan. “That was easier than I expected.”

“I wouldn’t get too confident, Padmè,” Obi-Wan said. “For all we know, this could be a trap.”

Padmè almost didn’t want to picture it, but at the same time, it was very much a possible reality. The Separatists may have been occasionally insane at times (for example, the matter of King Rash, as well as Durge), but they weren’t stupid. If anything, they were brilliant. Stone-cold geniuses, really. It was a pity that they couldn’t use their talents to help the Republic. To save lives. To make a better galaxy.

Then again, it wasn’t like the Jedi were immune in that regard either. If anything, Padmè thought, some things that she didn’t get about the Order were how they seemed to think they and they alone knew who was worthy and who wasn’t worthy of help. To her, it was just puzzling, and even absurd. No, more than absurd. If anything, it was absolutely ridiculous. Everyone was worthy of help, no matter who they were.

Some had said that it would be her downfall, that desire to help. But Padmè knew that as long as she lived, she would never turn her back on those who so desperately needed her help. Whatever she did, whatever happened, if there was someone in need, she would be there, no matter what.

“Padmè,” Obi-Wan said, “Are you all right?”

“I am, I am.” Padmè hadn’t realized that her thoughts had strayed away for that long. She sighed. “Sorry. I’ll get back to focusing on the moment, Master.”

“Good. Can you feel anything in the Force?”

Padmè closed her eyes, stretching out. It was still cloudy, the Force, but at the same time, she could feel presences throughout the ship. Vader and Ventress were in the shadows now, although Padmè knew not where, exactly, clouded as the Force seemed to be. Dooku seemed to be the only one in the General’s quarters.

Padmè frowned. Somehow, she thought, everything about this seemed far, far too easy.

She opened her eyes, turned to look at Obi-Wan. “I think,” she said, “You’re right. It could be a trap. But traps work both ways, don’t they?”

“I don’t quite know.”

“You’ve had as much experience in this matter as I do, Master,” Padmè said. “Trust me – we’re going to save Palpatine, and we’re going to take Dooku and the others into custody if we need to. It’s going to be all right.”

“I certainly hope so,” Obi-Wan said.

He looked so haggard in that moment, so alone. It was something that almost broke Padmè’s heart to watch. Her Master, the normally unflappable, sarcastic, utterly likeable man, slowly starting to break down over the course of the war. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Master,” she said, “No matter what happens, you can’t give up. Promise me that.”

“I’m not giving up,” Obi-Wan said, “Merely...considering the possibilities.”

“I know. But remember what Master Yoda said. Despair is as much of the Dark Side as hate.” Personally, Padmè wasn’t sure if that sat well with her; after all, emotions were a natural part of everyone in the galaxy, and despair didn’t always mean that someone was about to become a mass murderer. If that was true, they would all be mass murderers at one point.

Then again, Padmè supposed that it wasn’t exactly what Yoda was trying to say. After all, despair was at least one accelerating factor of the Dark Side. Dooku had become who he was out of despair. And from what she had heard of Grievous, he had apparently succumbed to becoming who he was out of despair as well.

_Grievous..._

Even the name was enough to send a shiver down Padmè’s spine. Jedi did not feel fear, and yet at the same time, even the rumors of Grievous, the hulking half-cyborg half-Kaleesh former general with a mask sculpted almost from the images of childhood nightmares (from what Padmè had heard), were enough to send a chill down Padmè’s spine. Still, she could not afford to give in. She had to follow the plan. She had to rescue the Chancellor, no matter what, and she could not, she could never, afford to give into fear.

She was a Jedi, after all. At the risk of any possible cliché, she knew she was better than this.

“Master,” she said, “Shall we get the Chancellor?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Yes,” he said, “We shall.”

And they headed into the General’s quarters.

***

The occasional rattling of the ship was enough to mildly disconcert the Dark Lord of the Sith that now sat in the General’s chair, handcuffed, but not enough to exactly completely rattle him. Besides, even now, it wasn’t like it mattered. The board was set, and the pieces were moving. It was dirty business, some would say, but it had to be done. No game of dejarik could be won without pawns, and this game was nearing its close.

Sidious had made many necessary sacrifices over the course of the war. The matter of Darth Maul and Savage Oppress – it was really a shame, if anything, because both of them were quite worthy apprentices, but the rule of two had to be preserved. It was also one reason he had killed his own Sith Master, Darth Plagueis the Wise – the rule of two had to be preserved. Plagueis was a genius, really – more than genius, but perhaps one of the most brilliant Sith of his era. In many ways, he had influenced Palpatine, in the studying of the midichlorians, as well as other things.

It had been far too easy, really, to, in a sense, create Padmè Naberrie. It had been a matter of finding the right candidate – he had considered many to be his personal Chosen One, the one that the prophecy spoke of, but in time, he had found the perfect candidate. It had been a matter of kidnapping a couple that was newly expecting: Ruwee and Jobal Naberrie. An otherwise normal couple, really, nothing exactly special. It had been a matter of manipulating the midichlorians in order to create the perfect child, and wiping their memories and sending them away when it was done.

It was also a matter of simply watching over her, in a sense, while he was still no more than a mere Senator of the Republic, and could find time to watch her. It was quite easy to like her, Sidious had thought, and perhaps in another time, in another life, he would have loved her as his own. The daughter he could have had if the Dark Side of the Force had granted him a daughter, which, in a sense, it had.

 _Padmè Naberrie..._  It was not Darth Maul who was his true masterpiece, but this mere Jedi, this mere Knight who had led so many to victory. Her clever, unconventional mind and her penchant for cunning – it was something that Sidious could only muse he had passed down to her, in a sense, though he was not her biological father. A bit of himself, a small piece of himself, had found its way to her. Some would find the idea of manipulating the midichlorians. The Jedi, for example. Then again, the Jedi had this honestly quite infantile idea that they could not control life and death. And yet at the same time, why not? Why couldn’t they? The sun and the moon, the day and the night – why couldn’t the Sith control them as well? Preventing death, bringing life, snuffing out life like a candle – why couldn’t the Sith simply do that as well?

After all, the Jedi were no more than the Republic’s attack rancors as well, and the Republic was corrupt. No, more than corrupt. Corrupt would imply simple stupidity. The Jedi had proved themselves to be no better than the Sith at times – willing to commit genocide and wipe memories and so many other things, all for the sake of the “Light Side of the Force”. Some would call them ambiguous to the point of being downright monstrous.

And yet in a way, Sidious doubted he could be prouder of them. They had been his masterpieces as much as Padmè Naberrie was. In time, she would come to his side. She and Obi-Wan – a pity that one would have to be sacrificed in the process. And yet...

If he could preserve Dooku, he would.

And yet at the same time, Dooku had grown soft and sentimental and far from fit to be a Sith apprentice over the years of the Clone Wars. He had a sort of attachment to Obi-Wan that Sidious supposed would be touching but, if anything, got in the way of the Sith duty. It was something that he had far from any time for. They were Sith. Sith did not love or feel affection or show mercy – they sought power if only for power’s sake, and for the sake of the galaxy. Making the galaxy a better place. A place of  _order_ , not chaos. An Empire of man – where the aliens would learn their rightful place, as would the Jedi. As would anyone who would dare to threaten the rightful order of the Sith – where those who opposed the Sith would meet their rightful fate. There were other Force users in the galaxy who had refused to give up their children to the Jedi, such as the Fallanassi, the Witches of Dathomir, the Aing-Tii, and so many others. They would not refuse the Sith army so easily.

They would give up their children to the Sith, and their children would make the galaxy as it should have been – strong and glorious and beautiful, bringing order to a tattered galaxy. Things such as attacking alien forces would be no more than a border skirmish under Sidious’ rule. There would be order, no more slavery, and no more corruption as Sidious had been unfortunate to see in the Senate. He had not expected to care, and in truth, he didn’t, and yet at the same time, there was a small part of him that somehow, disgustingly enough, cared.

And worst of all, there was a part of him that also cared about  _Padmè_.

It was easy to shove aside most of the time. And yet at the same time, even looking at her, there were times that Sidious thought, in a different life, it would have been quite easy to care about her, to love her as his own. But more than that, he was proud of her – she had proved herself far beyond his expectations.

She would join with him and fulfill Plagueis’ vision.

Some would be naïve enough to think that the Clone Wars were coming to an end. But they couldn’t be more wrong. This was far from the end.

This was only the beginning. 


	5. Chapter Four: It's Only Just Begun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the duel with Dooku begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

The occasional explosions that shook the ship were enough to make Padmè almost uncomfortable, having to lean against the wall for support. She turned to look at Obi-Wan. “You know,” she said, smiling, trying vainly to make a joke, “This is going to be one of the...rockier rescue missions we’ve ever had, wouldn’t you think?”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “You can save the very bad puns for when we’re out of here, apprentice,” he said, but there was a bit of affection in his tone. Then he grew more serious. “Saving the Chancellor is our first priority. I think it’s best you get to it.”

Padmè couldn’t argue with that. After all, the Chancellor was the closest figure that she had to a father. She couldn’t let him down. Not now.

The ship shook again, and suddenly, the lights came on. The lights came on, practically blinding, washing over the two of them almost as if they were conspiring to strike them blind. Padmè blinked, before turning to Obi-Wan. “Are you all right?”

Obi-Wan rubbed his forehead. “I have a mild headache, Padawan,” he said, wryly, “But it’s nothing that can’t be solved in a...flash.” He sighed. “And now I’m starting to make bad puns. Just...great.”

Padmè grinned. “Get used to it, Master.”

The both of them chuckled in spite of everything, and at least for a moment, the anxiety of the rescue mission let up. Some would most likely criticize them for being so seemingly flippant in the face of danger, but in truth? It was the best they could get to simply not going insane. Especially in terms of what you saw out on the Outer Rim. Things like Steela’s death on Onderon – it had been one of Padmè’s greatest failures, even though liberating Onderon had been a success. Things like Muunilinst and Jabiim and so many other planets – watching what the Separatists were willing to do to accomplish their goal.

It wasn’t what they desired that was evil – if anything, what they desired wasn’t evil at all. The problem was their methods. Even now, Padmè could still remember a conversation with Ahsoka about that very subject.

_“I think that’s the problem, Ahsoka,” Padmè said. “They have good intentions. They want to leave the Republic. They want stability. But unfortunately...I don’t think they really realize the damage they’re causing.”_

_“Or care,” Ahsoka said, more bitterly._

_“That too,” Padmè said, “But I think most of them are good people. At least at heart.” She sighed. “I can’t say I’m the most qualified to comment on the matter. After all, if others heard me talking, they would just assume that I was naïve.”_

_“Naïve? Come on, Master,” Ahsoka said, “Don’t talk like that. I mean...you’re brilliant!”_

_It wasn’t something that Padmè expected to hear. And yet at the same time, something about it reassured her – comforted her, even. Told her, in a sense, that she wasn’t alone. That being an idealist, while it would be lost on some, would not be lost on others._

_And hopefully, Ahsoka would carry that hope into the future._

But Ahsoka had died. One more casualty for the Separatists – at least, that’s how others would no doubt see it. But if anything, for Padmè, it was worse than that. The Separatists had killed someone who was almost like a daughter to her – so young and clever and kind and outspoken and wonderful and full of life.

And Obi-Wan had felt it too. Though he had taken great care to cover up his emotions – which Padmè supposed for him wasn’t hard; after all, he had had practice in that arena – Padmè could feel that loss radiating from him, almost like an open wound that hadn’t quite healed.

Obi-Wan had been wounded. And worse than that, Padmè could already sense something darker in him. Something angry.

_“I’m worried about Obi-Wan.”_

_It wasn’t something that Padmè expected, at least in terms of speaking with Master Yoda about her troubles, but at the same time, she didn’t want to break Sabe’s heart or make her worry by bringing it up to her, and besides, perhaps it was best to get a Jedi’s perspective on this one, at least for now._

_Yoda looked at her thoughtfully, his head cocked if only slightly. “Indeed?”_

_“Yes, indeed,” Padmè said. “Ever since that mission to Dxun – he’s changed, Master Yoda, I can feel it. It’s like it hasn’t gone away – I’ve tried talking with him, but it’s like...” She sighed. “I guess he just needs time, but...”_

_“Dangerous this could be for Master Obi-Wan. The shadow of greed, attachment is.”_

_Padmè almost couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Even for Master Yoda, it sounded almost cold. “How can you even say that? Ahsoka...well, she was like a daughter to him – ’’_

_“Know that I do. But let go, Master Obi-Wan needs to, as do you.”_

_Padmè sat back now, thinking. How could she really let go of Ahsoka? After all, the young Togruta had been her partner – not just her Padawan, but her partner, her best friend – for so many years. Even in her nightmares, she could see Ahsoka dying, again and again, like a holovid put on repeat. Even in her nightmares, she could see that cursed Dxun forest, and that fury that had built up in her, a fury she doubted she had ever felt this strongly before, that desire to bring the Separatists to justice for murder. Even in her nightmares she could hear that laughter – laughter that she hadn’t heard before, but that sinister cackle that seemed to echo in her ears long after she woke._

_“I don’t know, Master Yoda,” she said. “It’s just...” She sighed. “You can’t just let go of loss as easily as simply...not mourning or missing them. At least, I can’t.”_

_“Of course not. Older than the expected age, you were, when you were brought before us.”_

_Padmè looked at him if only in confusion. “Master Yoda, with all due respect – ’’_

_“Had a family you did, and time to form attachments. Forming attachments, the Jedi cannot afford. Unscrupulous some may find our actions, but done it must be. And here you are – time for your family you had, as well as forming attachments. A sense of justice, a sense of peace. A desire for something we cannot always fulfill.”_

_Surprisingly enough, it was the last bit that Padmè, somehow, took most objection to. “Why not, Master Yoda?” Padmè said. “I mean...we are not the Republic’s personal attack rancors. We’re better than this. We’re Jedi.”_

_“A similar thing Count Dooku said,” Yoda said, so calmly, as if they were discussing the weather over drinks, “Before he left the Order.”_

_Suddenly, Padmè was curious. “What did he say?”_

_Yoda seemed to go quiet now, and in that moment, Padmè could see not the wise, almost untouchable, inscrutable Grand Jedi Master that she had first met, but a creature in charge of the Order, very old and very kind and very sad, musing on the apprentice that he might as well have called a son. If the Force had granted him a son. Dooku had been more than gifted – to Master Yoda, to the Order in general, he was a gift. Padmè doubted that it was anything out of the ordinary to think that Jocasta Nu had once been in love with him – the way she spoke about him at times, that look of happiness and sadness that seemed to come into her eyes as if she were remembering the good times she had had – if Jocasta Nu hadn’t somehow been in love with him, Padmè supposed that she would be surprised._

_And then Yoda spoke. “Spoke, he did, of things that the Order was better destined for. That we were destined for greater things than carrying out the Republic’s desires. Wrong, he was – preservers of the peace, we are. Aspire to anything greater than that, against the Code it is.”_

_“I don’t know, Master Yoda. It’s just...” Padmè sighed. “It’s the Republic’s fault. If they’d just let the Separatists leave the Republic, this wouldn’t have happened. They wouldn’t have dragged us into it.”_

_“Dragged into it we were_ not.  _Did our duty, we did – as we always do.”_

_That was enough to catch Padmè off guard. Even remembering Depa Billaba and Ahsoka Tano and Adi Gallia and so many others – so many that had meant so much to her. She had fought alongside Master Gallia at one point, and Depa...Depa had been there for her when Obi-Wan had been presumed dead (he wasn’t, of course, but even so...). Fighting her in that cursed jungle along with Master Windu had been one of the worst moments in Padmè’s life._

_And yet at the same time, it allowed her to see something past Mace Windu’s normally unflappable, almost unreachable, exterior. The way he had knelt over her body, the way he had looked, almost as if he had been close to tears – it was a side of Mace that had frightened Padmè, in a way. And yet she understood. After all, Depa was as much like a daughter to him as Ahsoka was to Padmè and Obi-Wan. And though Depa hadn’t died...she might as well have. Locked in a comatose state, with no news as to whether or not she would recover._

_Obi-Wan had taken her seat on the Council. And even then, he had seemed so uneasy at the news. “It doesn’t feel right,” he had said, “To take the place of such a great Jedi Master. I do not feel worthy to fill her shoes.”_

_“You’re wrong, Master,” Padmè had said then. “You’re more than worthy.” And it was true. Perhaps no one would be able to fill Depa’s shoes, but at the same time, if anyone could so much as try, it would be Obi-Wan._

_“Young Naberrie?”_

_Yoda’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. The Grand Master seemed almost concerned now. Padmè sighed._

_“Sorry, Master Yoda,” she said, “I’m just...” She sighed._

_“Locked in the past, you are.”_

_“I’m not locked in the past,” Padmè said, “I’m just remembering. And besides, how can you count it as the past when it’s happening right now?”_

_It wasn’t just Master Yoda’s seeming talent for missing the point, though that didn’t help. It was also the fact that for all the – occasionally justified – criticism of the Republic and the Jedi for their treatment of the Separatists and others who sought to leave the Republic, for reasons justified and no and everything in between, the way the Holonet sometimes treated those who had died – especially the anti-war parts of the Holonet – was enough to make Padmè angry. Though she could occasionally see their point, it wasn’t when they were exploiting the tragedies of the Clone Wars to make the Jedi, the Republic, or both out to be the villains. Because in the end, what they thought of the war didn’t matter. They were all heroes, no matter who they were. The Gungans of Naboo. The clonetroopers – especially the clonetroopers. Every Jedi Master, Jedi Padawan, Jedi Knight, and otherwise who fought in the Clone Wars deserved to be remembered as so much more._

_“Of course it may be the present,” Master Yoda said, “But make it any less powerful, does it?”_

_“No.” Padmè supposed that he was right. As usual. She sometimes really hated it when he was right._

_“In vain, Ahsoka’s death was not. And give up hope, she would never want you to do.” Yoda’s voice was softer now, even sympathetic. “Carry enough heavy burdens as theChosen One you do, young Naberrie. Carry the weight of the dead, you do not need to.”_

_“Thank you.”_

_But even now, even though a part of her was oddly reassured by Master Yoda’s words, another part of her doubted that she would ever truly get over Ahsoka’s death. Some part of her still wasn’t happy._

_But she would keep fighting no matter what. She would not be crippled. This was far from the end._

_If anything, it was still only the beginning._

And it was that mentality that had kept her going when all hope seemed to be lost. And yet even now, Padmè doubted that anything could really prepare her for this. The sight of the Chancellor in the chair, cuffed there, seeming almost frightened and in pain. It was enough to make her breath hitch.

It was enough to almost break her heart. The sight of this brave, good, wonderful man cuffed to the chair like that, seeming so frightened, so pale, so alone – it was enough to make Padmè swear to herself that if Dooku had hurt him, if Grievous had hurt him, if Vader or Ventress had hurt him – there would be no power in the galaxy that would be able to stop her.

And that...that was a promise enough.

Obi-Wan, if he was disturbed by what he saw in front of him right now, didn’t seem to shift his expression. If anything, he was the portrait of professionalism, even now. Padmè could never really understand how he could stay so seemingly calm. If one was to look at him from the outside, they would never have really guessed what was going on on the inside.

Because in the Force, Padmè could sense what was happening to him. Obi-Wan’s emotions seemed to have become as powerful as a typhoon – not necessarily because of what had happened to the Chancellor, but because of everything else. Because of Ahsoka, because of Depa – to Obi-Wan, it seemed to just be another possible victim of the Separatists. Another thing that the Separatists dared to harm. Another person that the Separatists were willing to harm to achieve their goals.

And then, that typhoon, that terrifying storm of emotions that Padmè, long ago, would never have suspected to have witness through the Force, at least not from her Master, that normally unflappable Jedi Knight later become Jedi Master – it abated.

_Thank goodness._

And yet Padmè doubted that it was over. Not yet, anyway.

“Chancellor,” Obi-Wan said, “Are you all right?”

And it was then that the Chancellor spoke his fear aloud. His fear that made him look so frightened and vulnerable and alone, his fear that had struck such rage in Padmè and Obi-Wan both, such rage and sorrow – the fear that was enough to shake this great man to the bones.

 “Dooku.”

Padmè turned around now, only to look at the Count, dressed impeccably as ever, in rich velvets and skins, wearing that same calm, almost inscrutable, yet somehow haughty and scornful expression, standing on the balcony alongside two battle droids. And now, two faces that Padmè knew well.

Darth Vader and Asajj Ventress.

“Well,” Padmè said, to Obi-Wan, “Now we’re in trouble.”

“Don’t worry, Padawan,” Obi-Wan said – it was still so odd that he called her that when she was now a Jedi Knight, but she supposed that it was his way of showing affection – smiling if only slightly, “I doubt it’s anything that we can’t handle.”

“Are you certain?” Palpatine seemed to be back to his old self – if only slightly. “With all due respect, Master Kenobi – I really think that you should have brought backup. After all, these are two Dark Jedi and a Sith Lord. I doubt you can handle those along with two battle droids.”

For a moment, Padmè thought, she couldn’t really imagine how absolutely naïve the Chancellor really was. But then again, it was probably a very reasonable fear. After all...

“Don’t worry, Chancellor,” she said, “At this rate – it’s going to be a typical Tuesday for us.”

“I suppose,” the Chancellor said, but there was a note of uncertainty in his voice. And to an extent, Padmè could understand. After all, considering Dooku’s reputation as well as Vader’s and Ventress’, of course Palpatine would be scared. Dooku was a fine duelist, and Vader and Ventress – they were geniuses in every sense of the word.

Still, Padmè supposed it wasn’t anything that they couldn’t handle.

“Together, Master?” she said. She didn’t want a repeat of Geonosis. Or Jabiim, for that matter – perhaps Dooku hadn’t exactly been there, but even so, that moment where she had thought she lost Obi-Wan...it had frightened her.

She couldn’t lose him this day. She couldn’t lose Palpatine either. Not along with Depa and Master Gallia and Ahsoka Tano. She would  _not_  lose him this day. She would rescue the Chancellor from the middle of the Separatist fleet, and just to finish the job, she would take Dooku and the others into custody as it was meant to be.

Grievous would be behind bars as he should have been in the first place, as would Dooku. He wasn’t going to escape like last time. And neither would Vader and Ventress.

And Force help them, there would not be a power in the galaxy that would stop Padmè from making everything right. She would end the Clone Wars. She would find a way to persuade the Chancellor to have peace talks with the Separatists, and everything would be right.

And Force help her, she  _would_  make it right.

Even if it cost her her life.

 


	6. Chapter Five: Justice, Right, Responsibility.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we get more of a glimpse into Obi-Wan's darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.
> 
> Author's Notes: Sorry for the slow pace, guys. The duel begins next chapter, I promise. :)

 

Obi-Wan Kenobi was not afraid of Count Dooku. Or, for that matter, Vader and Ventress. Skilled as Vader and Ventress were, they were also naïve and undisciplined, letting their anger control them instead of taking careful measures like the other Sith to control their anger, to harness it into power. They were still very young, and if anything, Obi-Wan pitied them more than anything else.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was not afraid of Count Dooku if only for all the Count’s skill, there was one major flaw of his, and that was arrogance. Plain and simple arrogance. The Count seemed to believe he was above everyone else, that the lesser species deserved to be crushed. For all his pretensions of making a better galaxy and what not – and to be fair, it wasn’t like he disagreed. He couldn’t say that he liked the Republic. There were a few good men and women in there, but the structure of the Republic was completely upside down, to say the least – the Count was no more than a posturing creature who was after power for power’s sake. Obi-Wan Kenobi was not even afraid of General Grievous, because he had run across other warlords before, and creatures far worse than Grievous could even hope to be. Durge, for example, and the Son on Mortis (although even the Son wasn’t evil, he mused. It was in his nature), and so many others. And he and Padmè had defeated them all.

Defeating Grievous, he thought, would be more than easy.

No, if anything, if there was anything Obi-Wan Kenobi was afraid of, it was himself. The darkness in himself.

He didn’t know when it had come to him. He mostly remembered fighting through the violent, chaotic landscape of the Clone Wars, trying in vain to do the right thing. He mostly remembered things such as having to go undercover to deceive his dearest friend – his Padawan. He hadn’t expected to love her at first, at least in a sense, but in truth, it was easy to love her. Her wit, her kindness, her brilliance – it was easy for other people to love her, never mind Obi-Wan.

And then there was the matter of Ahsoka’s death.

Master Yoda had tried to tell him, once, that Ahsoka was happy in the Force, to rejoice for those who turned into the Force, or anything else that Obi-Wan had no doubt learned since he was a very young child. Since he was a Padawan. Since he was a Knight. And long ago, he would have at least accepted those words of advice.

And yet, that wasn’t enough.

Long ago, Obi-Wan Kenobi had been naïve. More than naïve, really. He had been sheltered, blinded to the truth of what was really happening – it was only when he stepped outside the Jedi Temple that he saw the truth of the hardships that the galaxy was experiencing. It was only when he truly stepped away from everything he had known in the past that he realized what was happening.

And the worst part about it was that even though he wanted so deeply to help, he couldn’t find out a way that he could.

_“Master?” Padmè seemed almost plaintive now, even earnest. She seemed to be all too good at it. “Is there anything we can do?”_

_Obi-Wan wished there was a way to help them, and yet at the same time, he doubted it. He doubted that they could just barge in there and start a revolution. He sighed. “I want to, Padawan,” he said, “But we can’t. We have a mission to complete.”_

_“To the furthest reaches of the Corellian_ hells _with the mission!” Obi-Wan doubted that he had seen his Padawan, his normally mellow Padawan, this angry before. “We’re going to go in there and we’re going to save them.”_

_“We can’t. I mean...we’re Jedi. We can’t go outside the Republic’s jurisdiction.” And even saying that, Obi-Wan was suddenly aware of how weak that argument sounded. And yet it was true. “Besides, there are far greater things to achieve right now.”_

_“Greater? Master,” Padmè said, and Obi-Wan could swear that he could see tears gleaming in those eyes, “Please. Just save one family if you can. Just do it.”_

They had managed to work it out in the end, and to both their surprise (and Padmè’s subsequent all-but-rubbing-it-in-his-face), the Council hadn’t minded much. Other than going behind their backs to do it, what with Master Windu saying, “If you had told us, we wouldn’t have minded.”

And yet at the same time, the mission to the world of Belarus IV – it was a success. And yet at the same time, Obi-Wan could see something in this world that seemed to reveal something about his Padawan and himself: she was all emotions, all empathy – a sheltered young Handmaiden who was all but willing to do her duty for the Queen she looked up to and revered, but at the same time, had a desire to make things right. He, meanwhile...it wasn’t that he didn’t want to, but at the same time, he was held down in so many rules, in so much duty, that he was all but trapped.

Duty was an important thing to Obi-Wan. And so they had been together – Obi-Wan being the soldier that followed commands, and Padmè the young idealistic crusader that sought to make things right. Sometimes he feared for her, if only because if she wasn’t careful, that trait could lead to her downfall.

There was nothing wrong with wanting to help people. If anything, helping people was essential to the life of a Jedi. The problem was when it was taken to extremes. And sometimes, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but worry about if (or when, or any time at all for that matter) – if his dear Padawan’s desire to help other people could lead to her downfall.

It had been the downfall of those such as Darth Revan and Darth Malak, as well as the downfall of Count Dooku. Obi-Wan didn’t want to think of it happening to his Padawan.

Indeed, when the Sith weren’t in pursuit of power, they were in pursuit of justice. A trait that was both admirable and terrifying. It was only a pity that they couldn’t use their power for good – because one didn’t need to take up the powers of the Dark Side in order to do the galaxy good. Staying on the side of good itself was good enough (and internally, Obi-Wan had to smile slightly at the pun).

And here they were, standing before Dooku. A Master and his former Padawan, standing against a Sith Lord whose desires for greatness and a better galaxy had driven him to the brink of madness. Here they were – very much alone, and yet at the same time, never more powerful. It was a study in contrast right there.

Still, Obi-Wan would not be afraid. A Jedi knew no fear – not of the darkness in himself, not in the darkness of others. He would face the darkness, look it directly in the eye, and refuse to back down.

This was not the end for any one of them. This, if anything, was only the beginning.

***

It was standing before Count Dooku that Padmè could already remember the horrible experience on Geonosis, where Obi-Wan had lost a hand, and when she was beaten by Dooku; if not for Master Yoda and everyone else, they most certifiably would have lost.

It was standing before Count Dooku that Padmè could see Darth Vader and Asajj Ventress standing next to him, flanking him almost like battle droids. Slowly, slowly but surely, she cleared her throat and spoke. “We have no desire to hurt you,” she said, “If you come quietly with us, hopefully we can avoid any more bloodshed.”

Dooku was quiet, surveying Padmè in a way that suggested that she was ridiculous for even thinking of that question. Then, “You have already caused enough bloodshed this day, Knight Naberrie. What makes you think that you have the right to gamble with our lives as well?”

“It’s not gambling,” Padmè said – it was a miracle that she was able to keep her voice steady considering the circumstances, the memories of Ahsoka and Depa tumbling through her mind and refusing to leave, but she had to. No matter what the cost. Sabe would be able to pull something like this off. She only hoped that she had Sabe’s courage, even now. “It’s a statement of fact. You can come with us, or be destroyed.” She paused, meeting Dooku’s eyes and refusing to look away. “It’s your choice, but I warn you to not underestimate us both.”

It was no doubt ludicrous, she thought, at least to Dooku’s ears, but it was the truth.

“I’m afraid,” Dooku said, “That we may have to decline your offer.” He smiled a sort of smile that honestly, Padmè thought, would have looked more flattering on a maalras.

“Very well.” Obi-Wan’s voice was perfectly calm and cool. “Then what happens next is your own doing.” He smiled a sort of smile that unsettled Padmè even as she watched him. “Your weapons, please? We don’t want to make a mess of things in front of the Chancellor.”

Something in Padmè could not help but observe,  _Oh, he’s good_. But then again, he always was. And yet another part of her could not help but whisper to her of what would come in the future. She still had those nightmares – nightmares about fighting Obi-Wan. She only hoped that they would not come to pass. Even if dreams passed in time, the fact that they were looming in her head made them a more than likely reality.

But then again, perhaps it was just the stress of the war overwhelming her at last. It was still very hard to keep her head when the galaxy seemed to be losing theirs. The matter of the food rations on Coruscant and the slowing air traffic and so many other things – in a way, Padmè thought, it was as if the Coruscant she had first come to when she was a girl was changing before her eyes and she could do little to nothing to stop it.

 _No._ She could stop it.

She turned to Obi-Wan. “To battle, master?”

Obi-Wan’s face turned more serious now, even sad. He seemed to suddenly have the weight of years on him – or at least the weight of the Clone Wars themselves. “To battle.”


	7. Chapter Six: The Tipping Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dooku, Ventress, Vader, Obi-Wan and Padme duke it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.
> 
> Author's Notes: Sorry if this is kind of late! Also, hope it lives up to your expectations. :)

If there was something that Dooku could at least somewhat give Knight Naberrie and Master Kenobi credit for, it was the fact that in all honesty, they had grown substantially the more he had come in contact with them over the course of the war. In his studies, one of the things he had studied was the matter of the Echani way of life – not as a serious study, but more as a hobby. He had always loved to read since he was a boy, and reading up on different cultures and ways of life only made things all the better. The Echani had once said that battle was a form of expression – things such as anger, hate, forgiveness, and whatnot flowing in the movements of battle.

It was something that Dooku hadn’t quite believed, at least not very much – and yet even now, even as the Clone Wars had progressed, he supposed that he could see a degree of truth in it. The ferocity that they contained, the sheer determination that had built up in them – all these emotions, all these bizarre, odd, and yet somehow advantageous to the cause that Dooku was trying to follow emotions, were as plain as day in the ways they fought, the ways they commanded, and so much more.

It was something, Dooku supposed, that he should admire them for. But no matter. They would fail this day. They would fall this day – and together, they could carry on Sidious’ noble work.

And yet at the same time, there was something about them that caused Dooku to be unable to help being...disappointed. And that was no doubt an understatement. Even now, even as they used their familiar styles, their familiar lightsaber styles and whatnot, Naberrie’s familiar Makashi almost as if to match his own, and Kenobi’s Soresu, as well as everything else in their arsenal, Dooku knew already that there was no way that they could win against him.

There was never any choice, after all. This was never really a matter of question. They fought nobly, of course, but at the same time, they were fighting a war that was already lost.

Even as Dooku used a Force Wave that sent them flying across the room, he could already feel the first creepings of disappointment over him. Perhaps they were unwarranted. And yet at the same time, he couldn’t quite help but feel them. Such odd feelings. After all, these were some of the greatest Jedi of their age...and yet still, they could barely best him.

Even as they continued to fight, even as Dooku drove them back again and again, he could already sense something in the pair. There was something in them that was almost...tired. As if the stress of the Clone Wars had worn them down.

And even that realization was enough to make Dooku, more than anything else, feel suddenly very angry, very frustrated, and very tired. No, not just that. It was more than that. It was the fact that all of it – he might as well be doing their job for them. And he couldn’t –

“I sense great anger in you, young Naberrie.” It was a no doubt clichéd line to use, but at the same time, he had to find a way to get through to her somehow. To tap into the feelings that she had been suppressing so much. After all, she was a Jedi who never seemed to get angry. Not the sort of terrifying, wonderful,  _beautiful_ rage that the Sith could unleash when they were frustrated enough. Not the sort of terrifying, wonderful, _beautiful_  rage that defined the Sith and who they were. Besides power. Vader and Ventress were practically conduits of anger, even as they battled both Kenobi and Naberrie now. Even as Vader continued to battle her.

And there was something in Vader that Dooku, even now, feeling what Vader felt, struck him as...far from Sith like. Far from fitting for even a Dark Jedi. Vader had never been the conventional Dark Jedi – struck by a desire to help others in a sense that had, painfully, reminded Dooku of long ago, when he had been young and naïve, when he had believed – it had been only later that he had seen the cracks in the Order, in the Republic, and all but decreed no more.

But Vader was different. The boy was practically a flaming torch in the Force, an approaching storm, a typhoon in progress – nothing like the typical Dark Jedi, and nothing like a Sith. And Ventress...neither was she. The poor creature had been wounded already by losing her Master on a mission. And the affection that Vader had for her...

_“You know full well that you will have to kill her, Vader.”_

_The boy looked up at him with a sort of earnestness that was, in all respects, quite exasperating. “I don’t think I can do that.”_

_Dooku sighed, shook his head. “Don’t you understand? It’s what we do, Vader. It’s who we are.”_

_“I know. But...” Vader sighed. “She’s like a sister to me. I can’t do it.”_

And that was Vader’s ultimate fault. The boy was skilled, there was no denying that. But he wasn’t willing to give up everything he had for the cause. And that would no doubt be his downfall.

And yet he wasn’t prepared for what he saw from Vader. The sheer waves of reluctance pouring from the boy – waves of affection even. Almost as if –

 _No. No, it’s not that._ It was no doubt simple lust, nothing more. And yet everything Dooku had seen from Vader over the course of the war said otherwise. The boy could never bring himself to kill Knight Naberrie, no matter how he was ordered to. And considering how the boy was all but a soldier following commands in every fiber of his being...

It was more than that. Knight Naberrie was a very pleasing young woman, appearance wise, but Dooku knew that from Vader’s point of view, this was not the case.

_He loves her, no doubt._

And yet even that thought was ludicrous. Sith did not love. Sith did not show mercy.

And yet perhaps in a way, Vader was the exception to the rule.

***

Red. Blue. Silver. Red. Blue. Silver. The rhythm of the blades seemed to go on forever. The rhythm of lightsabers was something that Vader supposed that he should have been used to by now. But at the same time, he couldn’t quite used to it. If anything, every death in the Force, every soldier that fell – it was as if it was flowing through his brain, filling it up, and like a terminal with far too much information on it, or a machine with too much data, it was too much to take. It  _hurt_.

He could still remember that conversation he had had with Padmè, when she had been captured on the planet of Myrkr. On the nature of the Force. On the nature of loss, and so much more.

_“Don’t say things like that, Vader. Not ever.” Padmè looked into his eyes with such a ferocity that for a moment, Vader was almost terrified. The sheer conviction in them – it was enough to frighten and impress him all at once. But mostly impress. There was always something about her that captivated him. He couldn’t say what it was. It wasn’t just the fact that she was beautiful, as some would have speculated no doubt. It was so many things that he couldn’t count them. And there was something about her that made him wonder if he could find a way to convert her – to persuade her to his cause, to his and Ventress’ cause (not Dooku. Dooku had lost sight of his goals long ago), and find a way to make everything right. She continued on. “We wouldn’t have gotten into this war if not for Dooku.”_

_“It wasn’t bloodshed the Separatists wanted!” Even now, Vader doubted that there were any words in Basic, Huttese, or otherwise to express how frustrated he was. And not just frustrated, but simply and honestly tired. Tired of everything that had happened that bloody battle on Myrkr._

_“And yet look at what happened,” Padmè said, still so calmly. Except, Vader noticed, there was a trace of tears in her eyes. Tears that brimmed in them and threatened to spill – and it was something that made him want to at least find a way to take her pain away, at least for a while. Someone this noble and good and kind shouldn’t have to cry._

_He had heard stories of the angels from Iego when he was a boy, when space pilots went through the cantina. And though most of those in the cantina had shrugged them off as the ramblings of those who had had too much spice on the brain (or too much space on the brain, at times. Or other variations), there was something in the mind of that young slave boy that he had once been that wanted to meet them. If only for a while._

_And his mother...even thinking about her was enough to make Vader want to weep, and yet at the same time, those thoughts came to him so quickly, almost unbidden, of her voice: “Perhaps you will, Annie. One day.”_

_It seemed that he had finally met one. She was as close to an angel, at least. Her nobility and courage and kindness to everyone she came across – she seemed to at least be nobler than some other Jedi that he had met. Perhaps there were some noble Jedi out there, but most of them seemed to be as Dooku had put it: decadent, degenerate, and rotten to the core. She didn’t belong with them._

_No one sane belonged with them._

_Padmè continued to speak. “So many good people dead, so many sacrificed just for your grand scheme. Do you even realize what you’re doing? All those people who died – do you think that they’d thank you for showing them the righteousness of your cause?” Her voice seemed to have gained additional anger now – the anger of watching those she cared about die._

_In the Force, Vader could already sense it. Ahsoka Tano had died. Even the idea that the Jedi would use children, or at least those who were barely grown, as soldiers..._

_For all they denied it, the Jedi were closer to the Sith in terms of evil than they seemed to want to acknowledge._

_“I know.” Vader felt almost tempted to brush those tears away with his thumb, and yet at the same time, something in him suggested it would be best not to. Perhaps she just needed space. Something in him told him to at least stay back. “And I never wanted it. Dooku...” He sighed. “I don’t know how to put this, Padmè, but he’s lost his mind. I want to be able to overthrow him, but I’m not strong enough.”_

_“Not strong enough?” Padmè laughed now, if only slightly – at least he could give her the benefit of that. “Vader...look at yourself. I mean...you’re brilliant.”_

She had called him brilliant. In a way, Vader supposed that he should have already known that; indeed, some of the Sith, such as Sidious, had called him one of the most skilled apprentices that they had ever seen. And yet at the same time, there was something about hearing it from this beautiful, uncommonly wonderful young woman, this general of the Clone Wars, that struck him to the core. There was something about it that, somehow, made him wonder.

Not to mention all the times she had tried to save him, even though logically, he shouldn’t be able to be saved. After all, he was a Sith. A Dark Jedi at least. And perhaps not even that. Because for all the Sith talked about his brilliance, he might as well have been nothing.

And it was dueling against this woman, this young woman that had shown any sort of kindness to him, that somehow – somehow, the idea of killing her was something he couldn’t bear. He knew he would need to, if only to win the war. Dooku and Sidious had both said it.

And yet at the same time, Vader doubted he could ever bring himself to do it.

He and General Naberrie had fought before, yes. They had danced before, as Cad Bane had put it once – lightsaber against lightsaber, wit against wit. It was a sort of courtship, one could say, a game they played, a battle of wits. Almost like in some of the detective holovids that Vader had taken some time to watch, at least at times.

But killing her – killing her was something that he somehow couldn’t bear to do.

Even now, as Vader raised his hand, freezing the two of them in stasis, he could already feel a sense of exhaustion already starting to overwhelm him. He never wanted to do this. Not once. Not ever.

“I’m sorry,” he said, softly now. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted it to come to this.”

Even in stasis, the way Naberrie looked at him...it was almost as if she was quietly accusing him.

“You can’t win, you know,” Vader said. It was a horrible thing to say, even clichéd, but at the same time, it was the truth – the worst was still yet to come. Even if he, Dooku and Ventress were killed, or knowing these two, most likely taken into custody, it wouldn’t stop Sidious from carrying out his plans. And Padmè Naberrie, this wonderful young woman...she deserved far more than simply being used by Sidious to accomplish his ends.

And Kenobi. While Vader could not say that his encounters with Kenobi had been pleasant ones, even on the battlefield – indeed, Kenobi always struck him as conceited and arrogant, the model of every negative trait the Jedi had – at the same time, Kenobi didn’t deserve this fate. Because for all the negative traits that he embodied in the Jedi, some of the more positive traits shone through as well. Dedication, determination, humility, compassion – the only problem was that he simply refused to see something beyond the Code. And that would be his downfall soon enough.

The man was stubborn as a bantha, if not moreso. Persuading him would be difficult, to say the least.

“I think we can.”

Kenobi, now. The stasis field seemed to be wearing off, if only slowly. Vader turned to look, now, at Kenobi. Those eyes – those eyes seemed to be judging him. Presuming that he knew everything about his background. He could still remember his encounter with Kenobi, and Kenobi questioning him.

 _“All these evils that we sought to fight, and you did nothing but_ observe!”  _Vader doubted that he felt this angry, this frustrated before, not to mention this tired. But at the same time, he was. He was tired of everything – the Jedi’s hypocrisy and simple lack of understanding, and so much more. “True, Kenobi, perhaps we are guilty of terrorism. But you are just as guilty.”_

_“Enlighten me.”_

_“You’ve done nothing to help those in need,” Vader said. “I’ve seen them. All across the Outer Rim. Even when I was a boy, even when I was still a slave, I saw it. Every hardship that we suffered at the hands of the Hutts, and you did nothing but observe. All those things about taxations on trade routes and whatnot – would the history books look back and say that everything you’ve done is righteous? Because you were the Jedi, and you decided who was worthy of help?”_

_“I am sorry about what you may have suffered at the hands of the Hutts.” Kenobi’s voice was softer now, almost like the toll of a requiem. “But everything we’ve done...” His voice seemed to rise now, inflamed with anger. “You forget that everything we’ve done was for the good of all. You forget that if we hadn’t gone to Naboo to fix these so-called ‘taxations on trade routes’, Queen Amidala’s people would still be under the iron grip of the Trade Federation. Would anyone want that?”_

_“Perhaps not. But tell me, Kenobi.” Vader doubted he could stop now, now that he had started. “Did you simply think Naboo was more important? That because it was a wealthier world and Queen Amidala was allied with the Republic, it was simply worth more? Have you become no more than the Republic’s reinforcers, their personal thugs? I can’t help but wonder, Kenobi.”_

_Kenobi looked genuinely pained. Then, “No.” He seemed to pause for a moment, thinking, musing, pondering, deducting, and so many other things. “Every planet, every star, every moon, every asteroid colony – everything in the galaxy is important. I doubt I’ve ever met a colony that’s unimportant. Nothing is truly unimportant. And I doubt that you and Ventress and Dooku and everyone else in the Separatist army will ever truly understand.”_

And Vader didn’t. But not for the reasons that Kenobi presumed. Kenobi didn’t know about the suffering of millions around the galaxy that seemed to be crammed into Vader’s head with no means of filtering them. Kenobi didn’t know about the hardships in Gardulla the Hutt’s palace before Watto had bought Vader and his mother. Kenobi knew nothing of anything. He was just like the rest of his kind – ignorant, absurd, and blinded by belief.

Kenobi knew  _nothing_.

And that would most likely be his downfall.

“I don’t wish to fight you,” Kenobi said, even now. “But I will if I have no other choice.”

 _No other choice._ It seemed to be some sort of buffering word, for lack of a better comparison, for these Jedi. To make it look like they had the higher ground. But they didn’t. Because for all their presumptions of being more enlightened, they weren’t. They knew nothing.

Perhaps, then, it was best to see if those beliefs could be shaken up. Kenobi presumed that he was more righteous than anyone else – it was best to see those beliefs challenged then, put to the test.

“Then fight me.” Vader doubted he was looking forward to anything better than this moment. After all, this was more than just a duel on the  _Invisible Hand_. This was going to be the moment where, as Sidious had once said, Naberrie and Kenobi would rise higher than they ever did before, and fall ever so much further. “It’s what you do after all, Kenobi. It’s who you are.” He grinned now, almost a cocky grin, making sure that everything about this moment shone clearly in his eyes.  _If you’re as righteous as you say you are, let’s put that to the test._

Kenobi sighed. “Very well.” He drew his lightsaber. “I will do what I must then.”

“You will try.”

And the battle continued.

***

Back and forth they went. Back and forth they went, again and again. There was something about Vader that, at the very least, kept Obi-Wan on his toes. And that, he guessed, was a good thing. But at the same time, he was tired of it. So tired. Even as he tried to keep it concealed, even as he tried to remember the Jedi Code (“There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no ignorance; there is knowledge. There is no death; there is the Force.”), even as he tried to remember all of Qui-Gon and Yoda’s teachings, even as he tried to remember everything he had been taught – it was as if everything was slipping away, faster and faster, before he could even so much as stop it.

He was angry. No, he wasn’t just angry. He was very sick, and very, very tired.

Back and forth. Blue against red. Blue against red. Red against blue. It was more than just a duel on  _Invisible Hand_. It was who they were.

And finally, almost impossibly, Vader was lying at Obi-Wan’s feet, a broken man – and yet at the same time, looking at him with such defiance that Obi-Wan was almost terrified.

And then he heard Palpatine’s voice.

“Don’t suppress your feelings, Master Kenobi.”

He turned to look at Palpatine now. “Chancellor...how can you even say that?”

“Kill him.”

“What?” Even the idea was ludicrous.

“For the good of all,” Palpatine said, “For the good of many.”

Obi-Wan’s lightsaber hovered at Vader’s neck, his eyes still focused on that almost maalras-like grin. His lightsaber trembled now, trembled at Vader’s neck. And then...

“Chancellor,” he said, “I’m sorry.” And slowly, he deactivated his lightsaber, hooked it to his belt. Then he knelt beside Vader’s prone form, placed his hand to Vader’s forehead.

It was an awful technique, he knew. But if Vader had to finally be taken into custody, this had to be done. For the good of many. And the needs of the many outweighed his personal desires. Obi-Wan knew this. He had been taught this, again and again.

It was later, once Vader had fallen into a deep sleep, that Obi-Wan stepped away, feeling almost revolted. He turned to look towards Ventress and Padmè – Padmè stood over Ventress’ body now, a look of the deepest sadness on her face.

“I never wanted to do it,” she said.

Obi-Wan frowned, even looking at Ventress’ body.

“I just knocked her out,” Padmè said. “I mean...” She sighed. “I just wonder where Dooku is.”

Dooku wasn’t there. If anything...

“He must have fled again.” Obi-Wan sighed. “Coward.”

“I wouldn’t put it that way, Master.”

“But he is.”

***

It was later, unlocking Palpatine’s cuffs, that Padmè looked at the Chancellor. “Chancellor,” she said, “Is there any chance that you could help us?”

The Chancellor merely nodded. Even securing Vader and Ventress’ bodies to their backs, using the harnesses that Padmè had used on the Outer Rim, Padmè turned to look at Obi-Wan. “Are you all right, Master?”

“For my part, yes.” Obi-Wan sighed, wiped his brow. “Shall we leave this wretched place?”

“Yes,” Padmè said, “Let’s.”


	8. Chapter Seven: Plan A -- Escape.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Padme, Palpatine, and Obi-Wan escape (along with Vader and Ventress), and Dooku decides to high-tail it out of there, just in case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. 
> 
> Author's Notes: Just as a warning, there's going to be potentially triggering content in there involving torture. Also, possibly not portraying Mace Windu and/or the Order in a positive light. If that's not your cup of tea (or StimCaf, as they say in the GFFA), it's probably best not to go any further.

Being able to rescue the Chancellor, Padmè thought, was actually, in hindsight, the easy part. Then again, she supposed that she shouldn’t have been surprised that it was that easy. After all, it was just the matter of getting inside the General’s quarters and getting out again. On the other hand, there was the matter of getting back out again.

Especially in terms of getting Artoo-Detoo to do what he was told.

Artoo was a good droid, there was no denying that, and he had gotten them out of plenty of sticky situations before. Which was definitely a good thing. But at the same time, there was also the matter of elevators opening and closing where they weren’t supposed to. And then there was also the matter of Count Dooku.

They had to be able to find them.

_But the Chancellor..._

Even playing that same game of leaping to catch elevators and making the way up shafts, Padmè thought that she would be almost grateful when they got back to Coruscant. It was after a particularly long fall (relying on the Force in order to slow it down just enough) that Padmè turned to look at the Chancellor. “Chancellor...are you all right?”

“That was not one of the more pleasant experiences I’ve ever had,” the Chancellor said, if only wryly, “But yes...I’m quite all right.”

Padmè grinned almost in spite of herself. “And you, Master?”

“Quite all right,” Obi-Wan said. “I also believe that our cargo are quite all right. At least,” he said, “I do hope so.”

Padmè looked now at Ventress, strapped to Obi-Wan’s back. It was a bizarre combination of hilarious and unsettling. Hilarious if only for the image – if only in a bleak sort of way – and unsettling if only because...was this what they had been lowered to doing during the Clone Wars? Was this what had now happened to them?

They had done plenty of morally ambiguous things during the Clone Wars. For one thing, Obi-Wan faking his death if only to go undercover – Sabe had been far from happy about that. And Padmè hadn’t been pleased with it either. Granted, she could understand somewhat, and yet at the same time, the idea of having lost Obi-Wan was something that she couldn’t take.

And then there was the matter of handling interrogations such as Cad Bane – Padmè recalled it was actually one of those times when she had actually been frightened, if only somewhat, of Mace Windu. Cad Bane’s cries of pain, while she begged Master Windu to stop what he was doing.

_The look in Mace Windu’s eyes, the look of utter serenity, even as Cad Bane cried out and squirmed as Mace forced his way into the bounty hunter’s mind. There was something that cried out in Padmè that told her to get him to stop, but at the same time, she was frozen in her fear. She was almost uncertain, if only for the first time, whether or not she should say anything. Even turning towards Obi-Wan, looking at him, she saw her Master shake his head._

_“I’m sorry, Padmè,” he said, “But I don’t think there’s any other choice in the matter.”_

_“We have to get him to stop!”_

_“You can’t!”_

_“Why not?”_

_“This man is a criminal.”_

_“He’s not the one who’s invading someone else’s mind.” Padmè was all too aware of what Cad Bane had done. Far too aware, really. And yet at the same time..._

_“All – all right. I will...talk,” Cad Bane said, all but spitting out the word “talk”, “If you wish.”_

_“Then tell me.” Mace Windu never seemed to raise his voice. “Where are Master Offee and the others?”_

_Cad Bane seemed to laugh, even though it was pained. “You’re...too late. They’ve already been...infected.”_

_“Don’t lie to us, you bounty hunter scum.” Even hearing those words from Mace’s mouth...Padmè never thought she would live to see the day with Mace Windu resorting to torture. And yet the agony in Master Windu’s eyes... “Where is Master Offee? Where is she?”_

_“Master Windu, please,” Padmè said, “You can_ stop  _now.”_

_But Master Windu didn’t seem to be listening._

_“You’ve done enough!” Padmè said. “Just leave him alone or you’ll_ kill  _him!”_

_This time, Master Windu turned to look at Padmè._

_“I’m sorry, Knight Naberrie,” he said, “But I’m afraid we have no other choice.”_

They had gotten the information out of Bane in the end. And miraculously enough, Master Windu forcing his way into Bane’s mind hadn’t killed him – Padmè guessed that maybe she should have known that, at least in a sense – the Jedi didn’t kill. But at the same time, the sheer terror she had felt at the time, the terror that had been so un-Jedi-like, freezing her in her place...it was enough to haunt Padmè’s nightmares. When she did not dream of the sound of Sidious’ laugh or anything else regarding her premonitions, she dreamed of Master Windu, his face contorted with fury at the thought of Barriss Offee being hurt, and Bane’s howls of agony.

And now there was the matter of what they had done. Even though it was no doubt necessary, at least in terms of capturing the two of them and taking them back to Coruscant (they didn’t have any cuffs in their position, after all), the image of mind invasion – and to think that  _she_ had helped –

“Padmè,” Obi-Wan said, “Are you all right?"

“I am,” Padmè said, “I’m just remembering.”

“What, exactly?”

Padmè sighed. “Well...Master Windu –’’

“He did what he could,” Obi-Wan said, but Padmè could tell in his voice that somehow, he wasn’t happy either.

“I know,” Padmè said, “But I can’t help but feel that there should have been a better way.” She could still remember everything – the worms in one’s brain, Mortis, and so many others. The bizarre thing was that she could still remember images of the Son – but at the same time, there was something there that seemed almost blocked. As if she was trying to remember it, to summon it up, only for it to be closed off. A locked room for which she did not have the key to enter.

She could still remember the visions, though. Far too clearly. But it was only the blue lightsaber, and Sidious’ laugh. Everything else – everything else seemed to be closed off. And somehow...somehow it frustrated her. More than anything, she was frustrated – she wanted to know what parts of her brain, what parts of her memory were closed off, but at the same time...she couldn’t access them. They were sealed tightly, locked, forbidden to her and impossible to enter.

She was somehow, almost, unable to remember. Or forbidden to remember – at least, there were techniques in the Force that erased memories, such as the case of former Sith Lord Darth Revan (and it was one of those cases where she could understand why that part wasn’t often talked about; it wouldn’t be a stretch if the Council was somehow ashamed of it – violating someone else’s mind for the good of the many. Violating the rights of one for the good of the many) – but it couldn’t have possibly –

Whatever it was, she could not remember. And yet she was terrified to forget. It wasn’t something that one would be terrified to forget, at least in regards to memories. And yet here she was: frightened and vulnerable and lost. As always.

Such an odd thing.

Obi-Wan seemed to sense the dark turn that her thoughts had taken. No, there was no “seemed” when it came to the Force, and not when it came from a Master/Padawan bond – in the Force, the Master and their Padawan were all but a single entity. It was something magnificent and terrifying at the same time. Obi-Wan, gently, placed a hand on Padmè’s shoulder. “Padmè,” he said, “We’ve done the best we could.”

“I know,” Padmè said. She was all too familiar with duty – the Naboo, for example, were not ones to resort to violence, but knew when it was their duty in order to pick up their vibroblade, or their blaster, or whatever weapon they had. And yet at the same time... “I just wonder, Master...what’s happening to us? What if this war’s a secret test of our character, and we’re failing?”

“Then as far as we’ve fallen,” Obi-Wan said, “I doubt we could rise any higher.”

Somehow, something in Padmè didn’t believe it.

“Look at all we’ve done,” Obi-Wan said. “Onderon – if we hadn’t been there, it would still be under the rule of King Rash and his government – King Rash and his army. What would you have preferred – doing what we could to free Onderon, or let it rot in slavery?”

“I don’t know.” It wasn’t that Padmè regretted freeing Onderon – Rash was not the rightful king of Onderon, or even the right king for it. If anything, he was almost the opposite of it. And yet at the same time, Padmè could not help but wonder, if only slightly, if they were doing the right thing throughout the wars. It wasn’t a matter of who the good guys and the bad guys anymore, especially not in terms of holovids. It wasn’t like in the realm of holovids, where everything was glamorized, where the good guys were always dashing and handsome (or beautiful), where the bad guys always wore black, where the heroes were near invincible in terms of fighting, where everything was clear who the heroes and the villains were. This was the realm of war, when, in all honesty, there were heroes and villains on both sides. Padmè could still remember Jedi Master Krell – if anything, the clones had had to try and take him into custody. He had died that day, and even now, Padmè couldn’t help but wonder, if he had put aside his desires for glory, if he could have been great. Beautiful, even.

But then again, it was probably a bit of misguided idealism on her part. After all...

Obi-Wan placed a hand on her shoulder. “Take heart, my young Padawan,” he said. “The best is still yet to come. Count on it.”

Padmè smiled, if only slightly. Perhaps in that, she could have some sort of comfort.

After all, being attuned to reality was an important thing. But at the same time, you had to include in your knowledge a bit of compassion, and hope. Those of the galaxy were genuinely good people.

They just needed someone to show them the way.

***

It had been a matter of using the Force to jam the door to the escape pods from the outside. Dooku sighed, almost wearily, and massaged his temples. What he was doing was a dirty move, a coward’s work, if anything else. But as someone in his ranks had once told him, sometimes people tended to mistake cowardice for common sense. His apprentices had already fallen – those woefully inept creatures. He would have to go into hiding, if only to preserve Sidious’ noble work.

He would find a way to get back to them. But for now, he had to find a way to preserve himself.

He could already hear their voices. The voices of the Chancellor, of Master Kenobi and Padmè Amidala and so many others. He could already hear them, so clearly, and yet at the same time...

It would be best to leave. He sighed, got into one of the escape pods, and buckled in. Then he pressed the button that would surely eject him from  _Invisible Hand_.

It was best to leave this place. He had already contacted Grievous before his foray into one of the escape pods, if only to let the General know that it was best to leave as well. But the General had refused to abandon his post.

Dooku supposed that he should at least admire the General for that. He had no esteem for Grievous – a creature like him shouldn’t even have existed. A tangle of metal and flesh, but mostly metal. Not only that, but a temper that could be triggered so easily, and a thirst for revenge. Sidious and Dooku had only kept him around if only because he could be of use to them; after all, once Kenobi and Naberrie were on their side, there would be no need for Grievous. And yet at the same time, Dooku could not help but feel a certain amount of distaste for the creature.

Not just distaste, but honest terror.

There was something about Grievous’ eyes – the eyes of a beast looking out from that skull-like mask, that gave Dooku chills. These were the eyes of a creature who had been driven to the brink of evil by the Republic itself – one of many reasons, Dooku thought, that the Republic had to be dismantled. It seemed more concerned about public image than actually helping those in need. Such actions had lead to the death of Grievous’ beloved wife, and his subsequent encasement in this armor if only to save him.

Encased in there until his death. A hell that no one deserved no matter how disgusting they were. Which explained, Dooku thought, Grievous’ voice.

No wonder Grievous screamed.

And it was there that the escape pod ejected, and Dooku soared into space, away from _Invisible Hand_ , away from just about everything, and towards certain safety. He would contact Sidious once he was there. This was far from the end, after all.

This was only the beginning. 


	9. Chapter Eight: Plan B -- Improvise.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Padme, Palpatine, and Obi-Wan are cornered in the hallway by Separatist forces and need to think up an escape plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. 
> 
> Author's Notes: Hope I got R2 down at any rate. Hope you enjoy!

It was in the hallway that they were cornered.

Padmè supposed that she should have seen this coming – being cornered by Grievous’ droids. Those battle droids that she had helped fight in the Battle of Naboo, amongst other enemies, as well as droidekas and super battle droids. She sighed, turned to look at Chancellor Palpatine and Obi-Wan. “Well,” she said, “Looks like we’re in trouble now.”

“That,” Obi-Wan said, “Goes without saying.” They ignited their lightsabers now, charged towards the droids, only for Padmè to realize that they were blocked by a ray shield.

Obi-Wan sighed, rubbed his temples. “How did this happen? We’re smarter than this.”

“Don’t worry, Master,” Padmè said, “We’ll find a way out of this.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “I  _don’t_  know.”

“Look,” Padmè said, “Remember what Master Yoda said. Patience.”

“Patience. Right.” Obi-Wan seemed to be remembering now, and seeming to calm. That was good, at least.

“Exactly,” Padmè said. She proceeded to go into an impression of Master Yoda – an impression, she mused, that probably wasn’t very good. “ ‘Patience, you must have, until the danger has passed and the water becomes clear.’”

“I can’t say,” Obi-Wan said, with a hint of his old amusement in his voice, “That’s  _quite_ how it goes.”

“I was  _close_  – ’’

“I really hate to interrupt you two,” Palpatine said, “But how in the galaxy are you two planning to get out of this mess?”

Even seeing Artoo Detoo suddenly wheel in, almost casually, towards them, into the ray shield, Padmè smiled. The battle droids seemed to not notice Artoo – or if they did, they didn’t seem to care. After all, Artoo was in the ray shield now with the rest of them. It wasn’t like he could do any damage there.

But if anything, Padmè thought, they underestimated Artoo very highly. The astromech droid had gotten them out of danger multiple times. For all the claims of the battle droids becoming ‘smarter’, she couldn’t say that they had done much to back it up. In a way, she knew that it was no doubt rude, callous even, but at the same time, it was very, very true.

“Hello, Artoo,” Padmè said, smiling almost in spite of everything. “How have you been?”  
  
“OTHER THAN A RUN IN WITH SOME SUPER BATTLE DROIDS, ONE COULD SAY THAT I’M PERFECTLY ALL RIGHT.”

“How did it go?”

Artoo beeped in a way that sounded almost smug. “I WON. WHAT DO YOU THINK HAPPENED?”

“Well,” Padmè said, chuckling almost in spite of everything, “I got worried about you. I wouldn’t want to see you hurt.”

Artoo beeped in a sort of cheerful way, before saying, “WHY DO YOU HAVE A SITH LORD ON YOUR BACK?”

“Technically, he’s a Dark Jedi.”

“DOES IT MATTER?”

“Well,” Padmè said, “Dark Jedi are mostly Sith Lords in training – ’’

“NEVER MIND. I REST MY CASE. NOW WHAT IS HE DOING ON YOUR BACK?”

Padmè seemed to falter. Even now, the memories of Bane’s screaming were streaming back now, even more than before. And if anything, she doubted that she hated anything more than this, at least in this moment.

She sighed, rubbed her eyes. “I had no choice. I had to knock him out. I didn’t really want to do it, Artoo, but...”

Artoo made a soft “ _dwoooo_ ” noise, almost as if feeling his owner’s distress.

It was then that Padmè heard the familiar, almost nasal sound of one of the battle droids. “Would the four of you get a move on?”

Padmè sighed. “Well,” she said, turning towards Obi-Wan and Palpatine, “Together?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Together.”

And even now, heading towards the bridge to meet General Grievous, somehow, Padmè thought, she wasn’t afraid. She had faced far worse than Grievous, and even the images of the creature in her head, a hulking mass of durasteel with eyes like a beast’s and a guttural voice that seemed to come from the deepest depths of the Corellian hells – suddenly, with three of the best friends she had ever had at her side, it all seemed surprisingly easy.

They were a team. The team, if anything. They and so many others had been through the horrors of the Clone Wars, and they had done so  _together_.

And nothing, not even one of the most dreaded creatures of the Clone Wars, could stand in their way this time. 

 


	10. Chapter Nine: Ruminations on the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we get a glimpse into Grievous' past and whatnot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. 
> 
> Author's Notes: Hope no one minds the character-oriented chapters. Or the portrayal of Siri in this chapter. And Grievous, for that matter.

It was one of those moments, General Grievous mused, where he doubted that he had been more irritated in his life. Here he was, on the bridge of the  _Invisible Hand_ , after Count Dooku had all but fled in a fit of cowardice. And here he was, speaking with one of the Captains of the ship  _Avenger_  – a man that Grievous supposed he would admire if he wasn’t so irritated right now.

He was not exactly a physically imposing man – if anything, he was small and almost meek looking, at the very least, and yet looking at him, Grievous could see that the man had courage in him. After all, staring down someone like him without so much as batting an eyelash...there was strength in that, he supposed.

General Grievous had not always been like this. Once, he had been a respected General on his homeworld of Kalee – tirelessly defending his people from the Huk. Once, he had had a wife, a wife that he had cared for deeply – before the war had taken her from him. Before the gods had refused to let him see her, one last time. Once, he had had a family – several families if only to fill the void of his wife’s death. Now, if anything else, all he truly had was nothing.

But he was not one to give in. Back on Kalee, one of his many ways to get through the battles, to get through the matter of letting the Huk win, to stop them from winning, was to simply say, over and over again to his troops under his command, to not give up.  _Fear is not the way of the Kaleesh,_ he would say, again and again.  _And neither is despair._

It was in this war that he had met his beloved wife, Ronderu lij Kummar, Kaleesh mercenary and warrior. It was in the jungle of Kunbal that he had seen her, beautiful and intimidating and strong, wielding two swords to slay one of the wild beasts of Kunbal. They had been a team together – demigods amongst their people. The Dreamer and the Dreamt One in Kaleesh lore. A single entity, driving back the Huk and leading the Kaleesh to victory. And children – they had had plenty of children as well, before she had died so suddenly.

It was almost as if the single entity that they had formed had been ripped apart, and instead of dying, the other half still lived on. He had tried so desperately to cope, and yet...yet at the same time, there was a void in his heart that would not leave. The Kaleesh gods had not brought her back. And here he was, alone – with only one thought in his mind standing out against many others.

Punish the Republic.

Punish all of them for siding with the Huk who sought to enslave them. Punish them for not helping those in need, but helping the oppressors, no doubt as a way to preserve old alliances or whatnot.

Punish their corruption and their greed. Punish their cruelty. Make them know how it felt when one of those they rejected, one of those they had made, came upon them.

The Separatists had found him, of course. And while Dooku had been initially repulsed by the state of him – typical, Grievous supposed, for a former Jedi. Shut in their ivory towers, cut off from the horrors of war, cut off from the reality of those suffering and dying all around them – even hearing his story, Grievous thought that, for a moment, he could see something wavering in the Count’s face.

_“It’s why I also seek to reform the Republic, General...”_

_“You may call me Grievous. The creature I was died a long time ago.”_

_Dooku seemed to do no more than raise an eyebrow, but even now, Grievous could sense, from his eyes, that there was something more going on in there. “I see. This is why we seek to reform the Republic, General.”_

_“Reform? There is no way of saving it. It died a long time ago.”_

_“I am aware that you are less than pleased with the Republic, General,” Dooku said, “But destruction is not the answer. Not the only answer. There are other ways.” A pause. “I am aware that my master may be less than pleased with the idea, but it is the truth. We seek to reform the Republic because while its people are corrupt, the ideals are still very much intact. We must simply mold them in our image."_

_That, Grievous supposed, he could agree with. “We conquer it, don’t we?”_

_“You’re thinking in war metaphors, General, but yes. We conquer it. Make the Republic of old into an Empire. Bring peace to the galaxy the way the Republic could never do.” A pause. “You haven’t seen the way the Senators fight amongst themselves, General. Tearing one another apart like rancors over a piece of meat.”_

_“I saw but a glimpse of their corruption, but never like this.” Even thinking about it was enough to make Grievous almost embarrassed for them. His people would have never torn one another apart like this. They were cooperative and loyal and brave – occasionally overly excitable, and impulsive, and impetuous, but they would have never torn one another apart over such things as more credits or what have you._

_“Count yourself grateful. But this is why I left the Republic. While I cannot say I agree with the Separatists’ methods, they are infinitely better fit to rule than the Republic ever was.”_

And Grievous knew that they were.

He didn’t even know why the Republic even wanted to fight against the Separatists. Actually, he had a feeling that he knew why. Because it was part of some plan by Sidious, Dooku had told him once. Because it was unbearable for the Republic that anyone would dare to go up against them. Because it was unbearable for the Republic to think that anyone would even think of the idea that others would not agree with them. Because it was unbearable for the Republic to think that their actions didn’t have consequences, that there were infinitely more honorable men and women and other strange, strange creatures across the galaxy more fit to rule than they ever were. Because the Jedi couldn’t bear the idea of something creeping into their idea of keeping the peace. Because they felt, for some bizarre reason, that it was their duty.

And there they were. Two Jedi – two of the most famous Jedi of the Clone Wars. Two Jedi that could turn an army around at the very mention of their names. Padmè Naberrie. Obi Wan Kenobi.

He had defeated other Jedi before, and kept their lightsabers for his collection. He was, after all, a General from Kalee at heart. Perhaps not the creature he was before, perhaps not General Qymaen jai Sheelal of Kalee, hero of the Huk Wars, husband to Ronderu lij Kummar – but he was still very much a General from Kalee. His aims were different, though. Where he once sought to defeat the Huk and keep them from conquering the Kaleesh – his people, his  _family_  – he now sought to defeat the Republic, who didn’t seek to conquer others because, in a way, they had already won. And at the same time, they were already losing.

General Grievous was not the type to play underhanded games. Indeed, there were times when he was frustrated with Sidious’ orders (and doubly frustrated with Dooku when the Count served as Sidious’ messenger, at least of sorts), and yet at the same time, he had no choice. It didn’t mean, of course, that he didn’t like it. If anything, he hated it. He preferred real war, not games of dejarik that Sidious seemed to be addicted to playing. It seemed as if Sidious had some sort of gift that allowed him to play a simultaneous game of sabaac and dejarik with the lives of others. On Kalee, he would have no doubt been a great general, and yet at the same time, there was something about Sidious that made Grievous almost uneasy. The man had a great gift, and yet at the same time...what if they were unlucky enough to be caught in the crossfire of that gift, to be used for Sidious’ ends?

He could never truly figure out Sidious’ motivation. Which was more than frustrating – it was almost frightening.

Still, he could not afford to be frightened. He was General Grievous of Kalee – he did not know pain, nor did he know fear, or grief, or sorrow. He merely knew purpose. The soldier given commands and the general giving commands, all at the same time.

There was something about fighting Jedi, however, that was just so pleasurable. The thrill of a challenge, of the fight, of granting the other Jedi a death worthy of a warrior. He supposed, at least, that the Jedi could die in the comfort of knowing that they had fought bravely – at least, to themselves, for when they looked at him...

He could still remember the Jedi that he had killed once. A young woman, a friend of Padmè’s – Siri Tachi. As she had lain on the ground, dying, she had looked up at him, smiling, if only through the pain.

_“What happened to you?” Siri’s voice was soft now, even as she met his eyes, but she was unafraid. “Your face, your eyes...”_

_Grievous could still remember the horrific reconstruction that he had gone through – the droids warning him that he may never be able to experience the “pleasures of the flesh” (never mind that it was entirely unnecessary. Flesh was weak. He knew that, more than anything else he knew) again. “Do you pity me, Master Tachi?”  
_

_“Someone had to once,” she said. “After all...it is the way of the Jedi.”_

_“The Jedi are weak. No more than puppets of the Republic. Soldiers waiting to be given commands, and they follow – no matter what the cost.”_

_“You’re wrong, General. And you always have been wrong.” Master Tachi’s breath seemed to be becoming even shallower. “The Jedi...they fight for peace and for justice. As they always have.”_

_Impossible, simply impossible. The Separatists only sought to distance themselves from the Republic – and perhaps enact vengeance, but that was a select few, and they were not worthy to shine Dooku’s shoes at the very least – and that was their reward. “The Jedi failed me. The Republic failed me. Failed everyone in the galaxy.”_

_“We never meant to fail you. Any of you. I...” Master Tachi suddenly smiled through the pain, and for a moment, something in Grievous was reminded, almost, of his wife. In fact, there was a lot of this woman that reminded Grievous of his wife. Different, maybe, softer, maybe, and bearing not much of his wife’s deadly skill, but precise all the same. And here she was, showing compassion towards him._

_Compassion._

_There was something in it that Grievous almost could not bear. After all these years, this Jedi, this naïve, foolish creature, showed him compassion._

_He did not need it. He never did._

_And yet..._

_“I wish you could see what I see, General. So much darkness...so much fire and blood – ’’_

_“That’s what I see. Every day.”_

_“ – but look. The light...”_

_“You believe that the light will conquer whatever darkness is out there? It’s far from simple. I have learned that lesson all too well.”_

_“I wouldn’t believe that.” The Jedi Master smiled, if only slightly. “When there’s life, there’s...hope.”_

_She died there, smiling all the while, even amongst the pain._

_Even closing her eyes, Grievous stood over her, feeling, for the first time, stirrings of doubt in that shell. And then, finally, he spoke._

_“You will be remembered with honor...Jedi.”_

Master Tachi shouldn’t have left such an impact on him, and yet at the same time...here she was, still in the back of his mind. A Jedi who fought with honor. Other Jedi had died out of their own stupidity, but she? She was different. Far different. In another life, she would have been no doubt renowned as a soldier in her own right on Kalee. She fought like a Kaleesh and died as such. She was, in no other terms, better than most of her kind.

He never could understand what she meant by life, and by hope. He had faced death – he had faced despair. They had defined him, made him who he was. And here she was, saying that there was hope left.

How naïve could she be?

And yet perhaps she was right.

And even as the battle droids led Naberrie, Kenobi, Chancellor Palpatine, and Naberrie’s astromech droid towards the bridge, Grievous could already feel the stirrings of doubt.

But no. He would not give in. He would not cave. This was not the end.

This was only the beginning. 

 


	11. Chapter Ten: The Bridge of the Invisible Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Padme and co. meet (and duel) Grievous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. 
> 
> Author's Notes: Hope this lives up to your expectations!

Even walking towards the bridge of the  _Invisible Hand_  never failed to make Padmè nervous, at least in this moment. She had heard horror stories about Grievous, perhaps one of the most skilled Jedi killers since the infamous Durge – a monster that she and Obi-Wan had fought once. Still, if she had fought people such as Durge and the Son from Mortis, and King Rash, and so many others, surely she could face Grievous. After all, how hard could it be?

And yet even seeing Grievous on the Holonet was enough to scare her. It wasn’t in terms of his build – although his build was bad enough. At least for someone like her, who was quite short, to say the least – but mostly in terms of the eyes. His eyes that seemed to glare out at the viewer like the eyes of a feral animal. She could still remember the advertisement on the Holonet all too well – the advertisement, of sorts, that raised awareness of Grievous and who he was. She could still remember it, all of it, and the eyes that had joined the eyes of Sidious in terms of haunting her nightmares.

Then again, she couldn’t recall the last time she had gotten enough sleep. Indeed, a good night’s sleep seemed almost alien to her now. Everything was changing too quickly. Everything was changing too much. Deaths and births and joinings and liberations – it felt almost as if she wanted to stop the galaxy if only for a moment for the sake of catching her breath. But to a Jedi...things like that were illogical at best and blasphemy at worst. After all, change was the way of things – the way of the Force. Everything had its time and everything died. Trying to control life and death...well, it was one way that the Sith got started, at the very least.

And yet at the same time, Padmè couldn’t help but wonder what she would do with such a power. Stopping the galaxy if only for a moment, stopping the galaxy if only to slow down and catch her breath. But she couldn’t do it. Even after everything that had happened, all this misery and death, some of which the Council couldn’t seem to do anything about – even after all this time, she couldn’t do something like that. It simply wasn’t done.

And so here she was on  _Invisible Hand_ , looking into Grievous’ eyes, even as the General looked down at her. His mask – if it was designed to invoke childhood nightmares, it seemed to be working. Jedi did not show fear – Padmè did not go so far as to say that Jedi did not feel fear, because if anything, emotions made people who they were. Even the bad ones, such as fear and hate; it was, quite honestly, what it meant to be human. Something that the Council seemed to be downright frightened of sometimes – but at the same time, Padmè was tempted to. The eyes that glowed so threateningly in her nightmares – they did not glow now, but they might as well have. And the build – it was the sort of build of a creature that had killed Jedi, multiple Jedi. Padmè had heard multiple tales told of his feats, and based on what she heard...there was a million to one chance, to paraphrase C-3PO, that they would be able to get out of this mess alive.

Then again, Padmè was never one to believe in the odds. After all, there was no room for believing in odds when the lives of not just you but the galaxy were at stake. Where you had to think fast and fight and not run away. Where you had to make a decision on which the fate of a planet or even the galaxy at large or even just a small city or a seemingly unimportant (at least in the eyes of others; there was really no such thing as unimportance, at least to her, and she never quite got the concept) person hinged. Or even an important person, for that matter. Sometimes you had to throw statistics to the wind and do what was right.

It was something that she had always argued with Obi-Wan about, when they were first starting out as Master and Padawan. Trying to tell him to forget what the Council set out and do what was right.

Then again, there were times when she could not help but wonder if Obi-Wan was right. After all, her tendency to try and simply make things right did tend to get her into trouble at times, in more ways than one. Still, she couldn’t afford to let go of something like this. After all, if she did...well, what would happen to them? All of them?

“Ah. The negotiator.” Grievous’ voice was heavily accented in the Kaleesh sort of inflection that was only emphasized by his mask. It was a bizarre combination of muffled and yet completely clear and utterly threatening that Padmè had ever heard. For Grievous, the mask and armor were no doubt a disguise to strike fear into the hearts of others. After all, it seemed to be working, at least. The gathering storm, the fist of fear – those were some of the names of Grievous on other worlds. The fist of the Separatists, another called him – which was true. While Count Dooku was the mastermind behind the operation, Grievous was his main enforcer. The muscle, one could say. But it wasn’t to say that Grievous was unintelligent. The general was cunning, after all – even having moments where he seemed bizarrely honorable, but those were few and far between – and not to be underestimated. Some did; they usually paid the price.

Padmè could not afford to be one of them. After all, she needed to find a way to get them all off the ship. Capture Grievous if possible; Dooku may have gotten away (unfortunately) but not Grievous. He wouldn’t get away. He couldn’t afford to wreak any more havoc on other worlds; he couldn’t afford to kill other Jedi. Their numbers were thin enough as it was.

Padmè had lost some good friends to Grievous over the years. Siri Tachi, for example. One of the Jedi who had showed her kindness when she had arrived at the Temple, confused and lonely and utterly afraid and nervous. One of the Jedi who had continued to support her over the years – lost to Grievous.

Jedi did not seek revenge. But if anything, it wasn’t revenge that Padmè sought. Merely justice. Some would say that justice and revenge were the same thing, but if anything, they weren’t. If anything else, revenge was, honestly, rather selfish and served no purpose. Justice was for the good of the many, and served every possible purpose it could. Granted, justice could be taken too far, but the principle behind it had to be preserved.

Then again, Padmè supposed that revenge had some sort of justice in it. At least, there was something understandable and tragic about it, in spite of everything.

Grievous continued. “General Kenobi. And Padmè Naberrie – I expected someone of your status to be a little...older.”

It was true, Padmè supposed. After all, she knew some people who had expressed a degree of disbelief that she had managed to get this far. “That tiny woman has led people to victory so many times?” Indeed, if there was something she was honestly a bit self-conscious about at times, it was her height. She was rather small, after all. It was a bit of a family trait that she had gotten from her mother, Jobal – at least from stories about Jobal when she was young. Sola was a lot taller. It had become a bit of a running joke about the big sister and the little sister – the taller sister, so to speak, protecting the smaller one from the dangers of the world, because as wonderful as Naboo was, it was not immune to danger (one of many reasons Padmè had become a handmaiden – at least to help).

She supposed, she thought, that Grievous saying that he expected someone older was some sort of cover for the fact that he couldn’t really use the word “taller”. Perhaps it was the fact that honestly, looking over him – he was actually quite short.

The best she could do was fire back with some sort of witty retort. It was then that, against her common sense (after all, short or no, this was still one of the most prolific Jedi killers since Durge), she smiled and said, “And I expected someone a lot taller than you.”

Either Grievous seemed to be in a bizarrely merciful mood or he didn’t want to quibble with someone like Padmè. In any case, instead, he scoffed, saying something that sounded, vaguely, scornful – at least in his eyes: “Jedi scum.” Padmè could only assume at the very moment that he mostly wanted to get the matter of killing some of the more famous generals of the Clone Wars out of the way.

“Padmè,” Obi-Wan said, a faint trace of amusement and wryness in his voice, “We have a job to do. It’s best not to upset him.”

“We might as well go out defying him, Master.” Even hearing some of the stories of the Jedi who had perished by his hand was enough to make Padmè shiver – even if she wouldn’t show it.

“There are other ways to win than simple defiance. Just think about it.” Obi-Wan placed a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Padmè. It will be fine.”

Grievous, in the meanwhile, cut them off with a faintly metallic cough – a cough that had become almost like a verbal tic ever since Mace Windu had crushed his organs. It was something that Padmè could pity him at least somewhat for; after all, she couldn’t imagine living like that. Something like that...she could only assume living in constant pain every day would drive her mad. And in that armor – that explained Grievous’ voice, at least. No wonder he screamed.

Well, perhaps he didn’t scream. But it was close enough.

Very, very close, really.

Padmè turned now to look back at Grievous. And then at Obi-Wan. “Now?”

“Now.”

The two of them ignited their lightsabers – even now, Padmè had no idea what they were supposed to be doing, but she could only assume that it was another one of those moments when they didn’t know what they were doing at all, simply improvising. Which she supposed was good enough. Artoo-Detoo then sprung to life at the very moment, with his shock arm – knocking out Grievous’ battle droids, and setting them on fire.

It was amazing to see the lengths that Artoo would go to when sufficiently provoked, when sufficiently in need of such a thing. If anything, it was a constant reminder to simply not underestimate the power of the team – the team that they made. Which it was fairly easy to do.

Grievous made a noise that seemed to be akin to a sigh. “I did...hope that you would surrender with the Chancellor intact.”

“Sidious’ orders?” Padmè said.

The general tilted his head, almost as if in curiosity.

“Don’t give me that blank look,” Padmè said. “We’re onto your partner, Sidious. He’s going to be in Republic custody soon. As will you. We have no desire to shed any blood. Just come with us and hopefully, this can end peacefully.”

Grievous laughed.

“I would never surrender to you, General Naberrie.”

“Then what happens next is no doubt your own doing.”

And so the duel began. It was fortunate, at least, that they were able to find a way to hold off Grievous’ lightsabers together – after all, if not, Padmè thought, the two of them would have no doubt been toast. And in all honesty, Grievous’ reputation as a skilled duelist was well deserved. For lack of a better word, the General was...well, he was good. He didn’t have the Force, but that didn’t mean that he was really honest to Force  _good_.

Still, he couldn’t hold out forever. And it was near the end that the General, wounded, gasping for breath, looked up at Padmè almost defiantly. “It has been a good fight, and I am sad to see it end. But I’m afraid that I have an escape pod to catch.”

And he limped away.

Padmè was about to head after him, only for Obi-Wan to, almost unexpectedly, hold her back.

“What are you doing?” Padmè demanded.

“Padmè,” Obi-Wan said, “There isn’t any time for any heroics. We have to get the Chancellor to safety.”

“But Grievous is still out there. He’s going to kill more innocent people if we don’t – ’’

“Padmè, do you think that I don’t  _know_?”

Padmè sighed. Then she rubbed her temples. “What are we going to do?”

“I believe,” Obi-Wan said, “There may be a route to the escape pods.”

“That or...” A light suddenly came into Padmè’s head. She didn’t know if it was a good idea, a bad idea, or a just plain insane idea (if anything, the last one was semi-certain – it definitely was an insane idea, at the very least, but it might be their only chance), but... “What if we took control of Grievous’ ship?”

The looks on Obi-Wan and Palpatine’s faces suggested the sort of reaction Padmè would have gotten if she, say, suggested they do a fundraiser for the right to spray paint one’s name on the walls of Five Hundred Republica. “But that’s most certainly suicide!” the Chancellor said.

“I know,” Padmè said, “But it might be our only chance. You two may have to strap in. And in the meantime...”

It was a matter of getting Ventress and Vader unstrapped from their backs and strapped into the seats. Padmè sighed, stretched if only slightly. “I am never doing this again.”

“I wouldn’t quite count on it,” Obi-Wan said wryly, wincing even as he stretched his own back. “After all...” He sighed. “I think we may have to do similar things in the future.”

“That,” Padmè said, “Is probably obvious.” She sighed. “I just  _hope_  I never have to do this again.”

It was mostly a matter of reaching through the Force even as she started the ship, of calling out directions even as the ship began breaking apart – to open all the hatches, to extend all the straps and dragfins. From an outsider’s perspective, one would have no doubt wondered how this was supposed to help in terms of landing one half of a burning ship, but at the very least, Padmè thought, it would help in terms of them landing safely.

Assuming that she could do this. After all, landing a crashing ship was one thing. Landing a burning half of a crashing ship – that was an entirely different story.

And it didn’t help that in terms of the ship breaking apart – well, it might have had something to do with the fact that the Republic fleet would not stop  _shooting_  at them –

It was a matter of fumbling with the communications system to get in contact with whoever was commanding the fleet. And it was there that Padmè spoke. “This is Emergency Program C-115,” It wasn’t a typical landing procedure, but it was a code word that Padmè had made up herself in terms of crises like this. “Can you read me?”

“General Naberrie?” That was a voice that, if anything, Padmè knew very well. Captain Lorth Needa. Someone she had at least met a couple of times. Perhaps he wasn’t necessarily in charge of the fleet, but he was somewhere close to a friendly face, at least. Or at least an ally.

Padmè grinned almost in spite of everything. “It’s good to read you, Captain Needa. We’ve managed to take control of  _Invisible Hand._ Well...half of it.”

“Ah. I see. What do you need?”

“A landing pad. We have the Chancellor.”

She could hear Needa’s sigh of relief over the communications system. “Oh, thank the Five Brothers. We thought he was most certainly dead.”

“He’s fine. We also have the Dark Jedi Darth Vader and Asajj Ventress with us. We need a landing pad. Quickly.”

“Understood, ma’am. I’ll be contacting Master Yoda immediately.”

“Thank you. General Naberrie out.”

It was once the transmission ended that Padmè turned to look at Obi-Wan. “Vader and Ventress,” she said, in a hushed whisper, “Are they all right?”

“They are, as far as I know.” Obi-Wan sighed. “Just focus on commanding the ship.”

“All right.”

Padmè couldn’t let her focus waver. After all, it was mostly the matter of landing the ship safely. She couldn’t afford to endanger any civilian lives.

She would land the ship.

She would save her friends.

And following that – everything would be more than easy. If anything? It would be brilliant. 


	12. Chapter Eleven: Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Grievous spends some time recovering after the duel on the bridge of Invisible Hand, and the Separatists resort to Plan C.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

_It was a dream that Grievous had been having for quite a while, if only with a different twist to it._

_In the dream, he could still see the body of his beloved wife floating in the water – a sign that the gods had taken her so long ago, taken her out towards the sea of Kalee. In the dream, he could still see himself, still so young and angry and idealistic and filled with irrational, stupid hope...pleading with the gods to bring her back._

_“I will do anything! Only give her back to me!"  
_

_But they did not listen._

_It was there that the dream shifted, only to show him, once again, with her. Fighting alongside her – the single entity that they once were. Except the Kalee were losing._

_A war that he was too familiar with._

_It was only then that a man in a dark hood stalked from the shadows. He was tall, if anything else. Tall and dignified. And then he heard that familiar voice._

_“I do not wish to hurt you, Grievous. Hand over your weapons and no one gets hurt.”_

_His wife, his dear wife, did not believe it. The name Grievous – after all, that was a future name. A name he hadn’t earned yet._

_And she defied him. “We will never surrender to you.”_

_A sigh from Kenobi. “Then what happens next is your own doing.”_

_And it was there that Kenobi had drawn his lightsaber, only for Grievous to realize that instead of the familiar blue, it seemed to have, somehow, turned red. And even drawing his own lightsabers – but why were they lightsabers? He supposed he would never know – he suddenly felt something that he had not felt in a long time. He felt afraid._

_Kenobi had fallen. He had become a Sith – he was going to destroy them. They had to fight against him._

_But for no matter how hard he fought, he could not defeat Kenobi. If anything, Kenobi seemed to have become an unstoppable monster before his eyes, and Grievous was all but helpless before him. Fighting like a madman, fighting ferociously, and yet somehow, unable to win. His lightsabers, coming apart once again, and him, suddenly falling._

_With a snarl of rage, his wife, his beloved Kummar, ran towards Kenobi, fighting ferociously – even looking up at Kenobi and Kummar fighting, Grievous could barely think through the pain. And yet somehow, he knew – he needed to save her. He got to his feet, taking up his lightsabers again, to face Kenobi._

_Still, Kenobi did not falter. Taking down Kummar again – taking her down. Grievous, kneeling beside her. “Kummar...speak to me. Are you all right?”_

_“I am. Keep fighting.”_

It was then that Grievous heard the faint sound of voices. Familiar voices. Voices of his Separatist comrades. He had apparently landed on some sort of Separatist planet. But where? And how...?

Blinking, almost unable to focus through the pain, he looked over at Count Dooku. The Count gave him a pleasant smile that, if anything, Grievous was almost surprised to see. The Count wasn’t really renowned for being pleasant – not to him, at least. “Good morning, General. I trust you slept well?”

“If by ‘slept well’ you mean ‘spent an apparently considerable amount of time in a comatose state’,” Grievous said, calmly, “Then yes, I did.” He blinked. “Where are we, Count?”

“You’re currently in the hospital on Mimban,” Dooku said, “And it is zero four hundred in the morning, in case you want to know.”

Grievous had to suppress a slight groan. Dooku honestly had to put it that way? Zero four hundred? Did anyone talk like that anymore?

Still, he supposed that he should be grateful to at least be alive. At least, grateful enough to not complain about Dooku’s arguably outdated terminology.

Then again, being in considerable pain also had something to do with it.

“How serious were my injuries?”

“You have had worse injuries, General, if I may recall,” Dooku said, “Although yes, they were quite bad. From what I could gather from the medical droids.” A pause. “I suppose, however, they were a minor improvement from the incident with Master Windu.”

Grievous supposed that Dooku was right. Then again, anything would have been preferable to experiencing what he had experienced with Jedi Master Mace Windu that day. The Jedi Master, he had learned, if only the hard way, was not one to pull any punches when sufficiently angry. If anything, his crushing of Grievous’ internal organs had left him with a considerable amount of difficulty breathing. The medical droids had even said that it was a miracle that Grievous had survived – then again, considering that he was more metal than flesh nowadays, perhaps in a way, that had saved him.

Still, he supposed that anything – even death – would have been preferable. At the very least, the incident gave him strength. Gave him energy – gave him additional anger. He could only pray that he would meet Mace Windu in battle once more, and best him as Mace had once bested him. It was, after all, only right to do so.

It was only later that they received the message from Darth Sidious. Grievous already knew the routine all too well, so he made sure to look as obedient as possible before Sidious – Dooku seemed to, as well. Sidious seemed to be the only being that Dooku would be ever willing to defer to.

“My lord.” Grievous said. There was something almost abhorrent about referring to this inscrutable creature as “my lord”, and yet something right. After all, Sidious was a genius. More than a genius, really – he could put geniuses of this day and age to shame. And that...that said volumes.

“General,” Sidious said. “I trust you are well?”

“I am. How fares the status of the Jedi?”

“They have landed on Coruscant.” Sidious paused. “I am almost surprised that they did not face a court martial for their actions in terms of what they did to Vader and Ventress, but then again...I suppose the Jedi were pushed into a desperate enough corner that they could not afford to condemn.”

Grievous could not really argue with that. After all, desperate calls called for desperate measures, in war or otherwise. “And what of our new plans?”

“I plan to move you to the Mustafar system. It is the best of plans – the Jedi will scarcely think to find you here.”

“With all due respect, my Lord,” Dooku said, “You cannot possibly rely on that.”

“Perhaps not,” Sidious said, “But a chance...it may create a chance for us. A chance to get the upper hand, if you will.”

Grievous knew that the practice of playing the long game – the long game of dejarik or otherwise – was an important part of war, but it didn’t mean that he necessarily agreed with it. Strategy was all well and good, so to speak, but fighting in the thick of the battle, the adrenaline rushing through you – that was the true joy of it. Sidious, meanwhile...

Sidious was a genius, yes, but it didn’t mean that Grievous trusted him. Grievous knew one thing that continuously troubled him in regards to Sidious – why didn’t he show his face?

It was no doubt a small detail, something that was no doubt understandable considering the position that they were in. And yet at the same time, it troubled Grievous, giving rise to a certain suspicion, fear, and distrust that he could not quite name. And that...that was something he couldn’t afford to have.

But as Dooku had said to him once, treachery was the way of the Sith. So he supposed that being surprised was never an option. The best he could do was be on his guard, and continue to follow Sidious’ orders as best as he could. Be a good little soldier, a good little pawn in the game of dejarik – and all the while, keep your wits about you.

“We will leave at once, my lord,” Grievous said. “And I will inform the Separatists of your orders.”

“Good, good.” The way the Sith Lord purred reminded Grievous almost of a contented rancor.

Once the transmission finally ended, Grievous turned to look at Dooku. “I am assuming he thinks it is good then.”

“Yes.” Dooku’s voice was short and almost irritable, as if saying,  _You thought otherwise, General?_ “It is best that we leave immediately.”

Unfortunately, organizing the Separatists was much harder. Even informing them of Sidious’ orders...some of them objected, yes. And some, such as a certain Viceroy Nute Gunray, had the audacity to claim that Sidious’ orders were wrong.

“Mustafar is a barren, fiery wasteland! Lord Sidious cannot  _possibly_ think to have us hide out in this place!”

It took all of Grievous’ self control to simply not strangle the little rat where he stood. He hated Nemoidians. Spineless, cowardly, whimpering, greedy creatures – and the Viceroy of the Trade Federation was no exception in that matter. Running back to Sidious if only out of fear. Dooku didn’t seem to like him very much either; it was something that Grievous supposed that they could both agree on, no matter how small.

“Mustafar,” Grievous said, speaking slowly, almost as if talking to a small child – it was the best way at least that he could find a way to keep his temper – “Is the last place that the Jedi will think to look. And besides – there is a bunker to protect you from the harsher elements of the planet. I believe that Lord Sidious’ decision is a wise one.”

After a long while of arguing with Gunray, the Viceroy, mercifully, did what he was told and boarded the ship with the others. If Grievous could still rub his temples, he could; he could already feel them throbbing. Apparently, even metal could not protect him from the sheer pain he felt in his forehead, the sheer amount of headaches from Gunray’s sheer stupidity and spinelessness. He was almost hoping that the Jedi would at least arrest – or better, kill – Gunray, because at this rate, he was already getting very irritated with the Viceroy, and very tired.

And yet the most irritating thing about it was that the Viceroy may have actually had a degree of a point. How did they know that Sidious wasn’t luring them into a certain death trap? How did they know – ?

Wearily, Grievous turned to look at Dooku. “Lord Tyrannus – I do hope that Lord Sidious has any clue what he is doing.”

“Oh, he does. He always does.”

“I’m worried, if you do excuse me for saying so, that the Viceroy may be right.”

Dooku merely raised an eyebrow. “Indeed? What makes you jump to that conclusion?”

Silence.

“Merely visions, Count. Merely nightmares.”

Dooku seemed, suddenly, very interested. “Tell me of them.”

“I saw General Obi Wan Kenobi himself as a Sith Lord.”

Dooku snorted, suddenly jarred out of his rather contemplative mood. “I doubt that Kenobi would be so easily turned to the Dark Side.”

“I do not believe either one of us knows this.”

“Well, I do. I know I have tried to persuade him to our side – he refused to listen to anything I had to say. So blinded by Jedi dogma. So blinded by everything he was taught in his childhood, about alleged good and bad things, selfishness and selflessness and so many others – all taught by others that were more interested in petty trade disputes and being the Republic’s personal thugs than trying to, say, solve the matter of slavery on Tatooine.” Dooku’s features seemed to soften. “And perhaps,” he said, almost pensively, “Freeing your people from the Huk.”

Even that mentioning was painful. “There was something else in the dream, Lord Tyrannus. I thought I saw...her.”

“Your wife?” For a moment, Grievous swore that he could see...something in the Count’s eyes. He couldn’t quite decipher what it was, however.

“Yes. And Kenobi...” It was almost hard to say. “He acted as her – no,  _our_  – judge, jury and executioner.”

“The very opposite of what a Jedi stands for.” Dooku sighed, rubbed his brows, almost as if rubbing away a loose thought stored away amongst the years of wisdom. “On the other hand, Sidious has been molding him into that opposite quite marvelously.”

Grievous was suddenly interested.

“It is...dirty work, General, and I never wanted to do this. Master Qui Gon Jinn...” Dooku shook his head, as if that loose thought from before was still rattling around in there, haunting him. “If he learned what I was doing, he would have never forgiven me. Kenobi...he was like the son he had never known.”

“I cannot say that I knew Master Qui Gon Jinn.” Yet even so, Grievous couldn’t help but feel a certain pity for Obi Wan he could not say he felt before. He was so used to seeing Obi Wan as self righteous, the very epitome of the worst of the Jedi – set in his ways, hypocritical, arrogant...and so much more. And yet even now, he could not help but wonder.

“Of course not. And I never really told you about him, did I?” Dooku took a deep breath. “He was my former Padawan. Killed by one of Sidious’ former apprentices, Darth Maul, back at the Battle of Naboo.”

“Ah. I see.” Grievous supposed that he had heard about such things. At least in the past, when he was still a General of Kalee. In a sense, he still was, but at the same time...he was not quite the creature he was before.

Dooku continued. “I did not ever think that I would be working with the man indirectly responsible for my student’s death. But desperate times...they call for the most desperate of measures. I can only hope that when Sidious is overthrown, when I best him – or perhaps we, at this rate – the galaxy will be made right. It will be made as it was meant to be made.”

Grievous could already picture it. The Republic, no longer corrupt, but formed into a great and beautiful Empire, stretching across generations, across ten thousand years, across all of time. The Empire that would stop the matter of slavery on Tatooine, and oppression, and stop things such as Kalee from happening again. And the army – with Kenobi and Naberrie as part of the Sith army, they would be able to keep the peace. Things such as the matter of the Trade Federation would, had they happened there, in this new Empire, have been no more than a border skirmish against the might of the Sith army.

Against the might of the Empire.

In time, the Empire would make the galaxy as it was meant to be – it would make it absolutely  _beautiful_. Because if anything, the Jedi way of being...where had it got them? They couldn’t save or protect the people of the galaxy; Grievous even doubted that they even cared about the people of the galaxy. What good were they, if they could not fulfill their purpose and help those in need?

The age of the Jedi and the Republic had long passed. It should have passed long ago – the Jedi’s arrogance had hurt so many and helped so few, and the stagnant, bloated corruption of the Republic had done the same. The galaxy did not need bureaucrats or anything similar. The galaxy did not need alleged peacekeepers that simply sat and twiddled their thumbs (or something similar, depending on who they were) while the rest of the galaxy burned and suffered and thirsted and starved and  _died_.

The galaxy needed warriors and soldiers. Soldiers that would lay down their lives for every citizen, instead of simply seeming to decide who lived and who died, who was important and who was unimportant, seemingly on a whim. Soldiers that held all life to be equal and worthy of defending, no matter who it was. Soldiers that could hold back such evils as slavery and poverty and so much more. Soldiers that would do what was right, instead of what benefited them most.

The galaxy needed soldiers. It needed warriors. It needed healers – it needed so many things that the Republic and the Jedi had not only been unable to give, but seemed to have refused to give. The galaxy deserved so much more.

Kalee had deserved so much more.

“I am aware that this is still difficult for you, General.” Dooku’s voice cut into his thoughts, smooth and clipped and refined as his upbringing on the planet of Serenno. “But have patience. You will get your vengeance. Your justice, rather.”

“I fail to see the difference, Count. There is an old saying...there is no justice like the justice of revenge.”

Dooku seemed thoughtful now. Pensive. Then, “Yes, General. I believe you are right. Now come...there is plenty of work to do.”

Even boarding the ship, Grievous could still see in his mind the image of Obi Wan Kenobi, dark and glowing with Sithly power and simply terrifying, holding a lightsaber, about to play the part of judge, jury and executioner to the hilt. And even now, Grievous could not help but worry.

He knew that he could not afford to worry, figuratively and literally – almost all of his emotions had numbed a long time ago. And yet even as the war had continued, it was almost as if they were fighting to resurface. Which was nonsense. He did not need emotions. He was a soldier who followed commands to the last, and a general who gave them without regret. He was General Grievous. He could not afford to feel such emotions, especially not fear.

And yet here he was, fearing the future. It was a common criticism that his father had given him when he was young. Calling him things such as reckless and impulsive – helping him channel his youthful, adolescent feelings of frustration and restlessness into the ways of combat.

And even now, he could already picture his father’s voice.  _“Do not focus on the future, my son. Focus on the present. This is the most relevant thing there is, right now._ ”

Grievous supposed that even here, his father’s piece of advice was relevant. Though the noble warrior was long dead, Grievous could still swear that at least at times, his father’s voice was in the back of his mind, guiding him towards greatness. It was, after all, the least he could do in the end.

Grievous tried to calm himself; even breathing was difficult, however. The wheezing, gasping coughs – it was something that he cursed Mace Windu for, for taking it away. Taking away his ability to breathe, all while thinking that he simply had the right to inflict pain. And to think others called the Separatists monsters! At least they were doing the right thing – trying to free other planets from the tyranny of the Republic. How typical it was for the Republic and their personal puppets, the Jedi Order, to call them terrorists and threats to peace, and even traitors. How completely and utterly typical.

And here they were, inflicting pain if only because it was their right. Grievous swore that when he caught up to Kenobi and Naberrie – or if he caught up to Kenobi and Naberrie, or even if or when he just caught up to one of them – he would teach them the new meaning of pain. He would make them see what they were doing. He would make them pay for everything that they had done, that the Republic had done.

Because at the core of it, it barely mattered what their justifications were for doing what they had done. They were the guilty, every last one of them, and deserved to be treated as such.

Holding onto his anger was the best that Grievous could do in the best of times, and in the worst of times. After all, after his wife had died, after he was confined to this prison of a suit of armor (even by his own choice, if only because of the amount of pain he was in), this white durasteel prison cell, it was all he had, in the end. The desire to punish the Republic. The desire to dispense justice.

And yet when all of this was over, where would he be? Would Sidious dispose of him for no longer being useful? Grievous could still remember it happening to others that had been in Sidious’ employ – the exception being him and Dooku, as they were both still no doubt useful, at least in Sidious’ eyes, and Maul, who had been disposed of personally by Kenobi, and later by Naberrie. In the future, he could not help but wonder...where would he be?

Where would Sidious be, if anything else? Would he be the rightful ruler of the Sith Empire, or would he and Dooku be ruling? Or would Kenobi and Naberrie be in charge? And where would Grievous be? The soldier still following commands, the General giving them, both? Would he be...?

Whatever tomorrow wrought, Grievous mused, he would need to focus on the present. After all, that was the most important of things. And even as he sat in the chair and fastened his seatbelt, the best he could do, he thought, was at least trust in Sidious – at least as far as someone could throw him, so to speak.

After all, that was all they could do. Trust in Sidious, odd as that sounded.

The rest would no doubt take care of itself. 


	13. Chapter Twelve: All I Ever Wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Obi-Wan and Sabe have a peaceful moment together, and Obi-Wan muses on a few things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.
> 
> Author's Notes: Thought I'd at least have some fluff in there before the darkness starts again. Sorry if there's a bit of angst in there as well; let's say this NaNo got plenty of angst while writing it. Not helped by the fact I had a bit of a rough year. But yeah...hope you enjoy!

There was just something so simple about being home again with Sabe, watching her stand against the backdrop of Coruscant, brushing her hair, all the while looking out the window, that made Obi Wan feel, at least for the moment, utterly content. It was enough to take his mind off, at least momentarily, what he had done to Vader and Ventress. Or rather, what he and Padmè had both done. He could still remember the look in Mace Windu’s eyes, the look of utter distrust, even as the Chancellor had recounted the events to the Jedi Master, and how Vader and Ventress had been captured – conveniently leaving out, Obi Wan noted, the fact that they had had to knock Vader and Ventress unconscious in order to do it.

Obi Wan had always been one to simply follow orders to the letter. And yet at the same time, he could not help but feel...discontent. He didn’t know where the discontent had started – had it started at Geonosis? Had it started with the rueful fate of the clone soldier Ninety Nine – someone that even the Jedi seemed to have forgotten about? Had it been even Mortis?

Obi Wan could still see those images in his dreams. And there was something in there that had him unable to help but worry.

And then there were the other matters. Going undercover to find the possible attempted assassin of Chancellor Palpatine – the sniper that Obi Wan had flawlessly managed to impersonate. At least, the Jedi Masters had helped him be flawless in that guise. And yet at the same time, what wasn’t flawless was the matter of the argument that he had had with the Jedi Masters regarding it.

 _“What if it does more harm than good? How do you know that it’s not going to go wrong?” And yet at the same time, Obi Wan was thinking, if only deep down,_ Don’t make me hurt Padmè. Don’t make me hurt someone who’s the closest thing I have to a best friend. Don’t make me break her heart.

_“Dirty business it is, Master Kenobi,” Yoda said, somberly, “But done it must be.”_

Granted, they had managed to have a bit of a joke about it, what with Yoda saying that his corpse had given a better performance than the man Obi Wan Kenobi himself, and yet at the same time...

Padmè was not a threat as he had once imagined when she had first stepped into theJedi Temple. At least not in the way that he had first imagined. It wasn’t the threat of her turning to the Dark Side and bringing the downfall of the Jedi Order; it was the threat of her being an idealist. Because that was who she was, and what defined her. It could save her – and yet it could damn her.

And then there was the matter of Sabe. Besides Padmè, Obi Wan doubted he could break Sabe’s heart as well. Even standing before her...even standing before her was a miracle, considering that the Clone Wars seemed so determined to split them apart. He could still remember Padmè’s words after the incident with him going undercover:

_“They keep trying to split us up and they never will.” Padmè reached over and squeezed his hand; it was an oddly comforting gesture. “I promise you that.”_

_“I don’t know.” Obi Wan took a deep breath. “I sense something in the Force. Something that tells me that events may continue to get worse from here.”_

_“I don’t think so,” Padmè said, “I mean...” She bit her lip. “We’ll always be all right, you and me. And Sabe. And Ahsoka. We’ll always be all right, us four. They’d have to get really creative to separate us.”_

_There was something in her voice that reassured Obi Wan if only somewhat. Tears rose in his eyes, though he didn’t know whether or not it was the matter of the events that had transpired or something else – he could only assume it was the matter of “I’m crying and I don’t know why”, because a Jedi did not weep. A Jedi was strong. A Jedi did not give into despair, or any sort of emotion. Padmè was all emotion. Sabe...she had learned to control it over the years. Ahsoka was still struggling with the matter of emotion, although she never failed to call out Obi Wan and Padmè out on something that she personally disagreed with. It was something that Obi Wan thought...honestly, if Master Yoda and his apparent sick sense of humor hadn’t assigned Ahsoka to Padmè (and thus the pair of them), he wouldn’t have bothered with the young Togruta. Then again...he supposed that he had grown slightly fonder of Ahsoka than when he had first met her._

“Obi Wan...are you all right?” Sabe, this time. Her voice gently lulled Obi Wan out of his thoughts.

“Oh,” Obi Wan said. “I’m fine.” He sighed. “I was just wondering...what would happen when the war was over.”

Sabe put the brush down and walked towards Obi Wan. “I wouldn’t worry. Not quite.” There was something in the way she spoke that relaxed Obi Wan, if only slightly. “I mean...we’re going to be all right, you and me. And...and the baby.”

Obi Wan could still remember the joy that had swept over him, almost in spite of everything, when Sabe had revealed her pregnancy. The joy and yet, at the same time, worry. What kind of father would he be? The best he really had experience in in terms of fatherhood was the matter of Master Yoda and the Jedi, and even that...he wasn’t qualified to be a father, was he?

He almost wished that he could tell Padmè the news. Perhaps he could. And yet at the same time...what would happen? What would happen to the both of them?

Still, in spite of everything, Obi Wan had to smile. “Yes,” he said, “Yes...I suppose we will be all right. The three of us.” He paused. “The question is where do we go.”

It was such a seemingly simple question. And yet at the same time, Obi Wan doubted he wanted to raise a small child in a war zone. There had been plenty of anguish dealt on Coruscant by the Clone Wars, even if only from hearing about them. And the strike at the heart of the Republic...if anything else, it proved that nobody was truly safe. Nobody was truly secure. Grievous and Dooku were still at large...no thanks to their own failings, Obi Wan thought. Grievous and Dooku would no doubt strike a second time, and he doubted that there would be enough of a durasteel prison to hold both Vader and Ventress. The two were resourceful, after all. And determined. If not for the fact that they were on opposite sides, they would have made formidable Jedi.

Truly formidable, really.

Right now, Obi Wan could only worry for Sabe’s safety. Worry for the safety of their child.

“Well,” Sabe said, “If we could...we could always return to Naboo. It’s the safest bet. Or Stewjon...I doubt either the Republic or the Separatists are really interested in that little world.”  
  
Obi-Wan supposed that she was right. And yet...   
  
He sighed. “I haven’t really been back there in so long.”

Sabe squeezed his hand if only slightly. “I know. I mean...” She took a deep breath. “I doubt I’ve been to Naboo quite often either. I’ve barely had any time.”

A pause.

“The more I hear about the war,” Sabe said, “The more I can’t help but wonder if there’s a way to stop it. A way to open peace talks with the Separatists. But the way that Chancellor Palpatine’s acting...I don’t know.”

Obi Wan supposed he could agree with that. He didn’t really have much choice but to trust the Chancellor (unlike Padmè, who looked up to him), and yet...

He had never really had patience for the political types. Except for Bail Organa...he was a good man. And Sabe. They needed more people such as Bail and Sabe in the Senate, instead of Palpatine. The man...something about him was so slimy that Obi Wan was surprised at times that he didn’t leave an oil slick.

But then again, he supposed it was just a petty overreaction. Too much worry about the Separatists. Too much worry about the Republic. And yet, the more rumors he heard...

“I suppose that we could leave,” Obi Wan said. “Not permanently. But just for a while. Go back to Naboo and see your family again.” He smiled if only slightly. “I know that I want to see them again.”

“As do I. I guess it’s only that...”

“Mmmm?”

Sabe shrugged. “I didn’t quite think that you would agree to that idea. After all...” A slightly wry smile danced across that beautiful, almost sculpted face. “You’re too good, aren’t you?”

Obi Wan snorted in spite of himself, jarred out of his pensive mood. “I am not.”

“It’s not really a bad thing, though.” Sabe’s smile seemed to grow brighter. “My soldier.”

 _Soldier_...

Obi Wan could still remember Vader’s statement to him long ago:  _You’re no more than a soldier awaiting commands_. And he supposed it was true. And yet...

Still, in spite of everything, Obi Wan smiled. He couldn’t remember smiling like this in quite a long time. “Indeed?” He arched an eyebrow if only for a degree of comic effect.

Sabe laughed. The way she laughed – it was truly beautiful to watch. The red nightgown she wore, bright red, almost perfectly complementing that rich brown hair – she looked almost, Obi Wan thought, like the fire goddess of a distant religion. And the mirth that lit her face – even now, Obi Wan thought, he had never seen her more beautiful. She was beautiful always, of course. And precious to him – more precious than he had ever realized up until this moment. But here...here, he thought, in this moment, she was the most beautiful woman that he had ever seen.

And for a moment, Obi Wan was content with the idea that, plain and simply, he was home.

Where he belonged.

Where his heart always belonged.

And that...that, for the first time in a long while, was all he truly needed.


	14. Chapter Fourteen: Premonitions and Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we get back to reality (of course), at least for a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. Sadly enough.

_It was the same dream that he kept having ever since the Clone Wars had begun. Or perhaps even further than that. The glow of a Sith’s eyes. The sound of its laughter. TheJedi Temple, smoke rising in the distance. Screams. And words that chilled Obi Wan to the bone._

_“The time has come.” The Sith Lord Darth Sidious’ voice, sibilant and slippery and menacing, no more than a whisper if anything else. “Execute Order 66.”_

_Vader’s voice: “You’re no more than just a soldier following commands.”_

_A man in a cloak and a hood marching up the steps of the Jedi Temple with clonetroopers in his wake. His face was hidden, but at the same time, Obi Wan could sense the utter determination and duty in him._

_Marching into the Temple. Cin Drallig, bless his soul, ordering his students to run. But of course, they wouldn’t leave him, would they?_

_Slaughter. Nothing more than slaughter. The scent of cloven flesh smelled almost sickeningly sweet._

_The Trade Federation, dying._

_The man in the cloak, dueling Padmè. Padmè, pleading with him. “Stop! Come back! We can help you!”_  
  
And, “Let me take Sabe to the medical center. She’s hurt. She needs medical attention.”

_The man, in a low growl: “Don’t try and persuade me, Padawan. You’ve long forsaken that right.”_

_Dueling._

_And Padmè: “Master, don’t. It’s over. I have the high ground. Just...put that lightsaber away and come with me. I can save you.”_

_The man, completely and utterly still on that platform, floating alone on the lava. And then..._

_“I am so sorry.”_

Obi Wan woke, gasping for breath. He checked next to him only to find Sabe, bless her, still sound asleep. Her hair falling all around her almost like a waterfall, half a smile on her lips...Obi Wan found himself almost gasping with relief. She was all right. She was here with him. None of this was real.

_None of this is real. Compose yourself. There is no emotion; there is peace. There is no passion; there is serenity. There is no ignorance; there is knowledge. There is no death; there is the Force._

And even focusing on the Jedi Code, the simple rhythm of it, the lessons that it had to teach...even that was enough to at least still Obi Wan’s shaking.

_There is no emotion..._

But only slightly. It didn’t completely still Obi Wan’s shaking. If anything, even sitting on the bed, he had to worry – who was this man? That voice...it had sounded like him – but that couldn’t be him. It wasn’t him. He would never betray the Jedi. Not once. Not ever.

He would never –

Frustrated with the thoughts that wouldn’t completely go away, that refused to leave his mind no matter how much he tried, Obi Wan got up and walked towards the balcony on Coruscant. Even looking out over it was enough to make him feel bizarrely empty. Before, the skies of Coruscant were buzzing with air traffic. Now...now it seemed to have almost slowed to a complete halt. And the skies – they were already still burning with the aftermath of the war. The once proud city that he had been raised in, the city that had been his  _home_ , was no more than an empty durasteel wasteland. Broken. Desolate. Stained with darkness.

Even looking at it was almost too much to take in.

And he felt the familiar emotions beginning to rise – hatred, hatred that he had tried so vainly to control and stifle and smother, but was, if anything, coming faster. Hatred of the Separatists that built in his hands that seemed to curl on the railing of the balcony and squeeze the railings so hard that his hands  _hurt_  – Force, they hurt – and build in his shoulders and his arms and rise to his face with a heat that almost frightened him, and built in the hollows of his eyelids. And worse than that was grief – grief for all the lives that the Separatists had taken.

He could still remember his words to Dooku in their next confrontation.  _“You treat yourself as if you’re righteous, but all you do is murder and destroy. Did you even see her? What you did to Padawan Tano?”_

_“Her death was wrong.” Dooku’s voice was soft, almost like the toll of a requiem. “If it does console you, Master Kenobi...her death was not in vain.”_

And yet that had done little to console him. Even in this moment, even remembering, the hatred seemed to die away if only to a dull ache inside his heart. A sort of emptiness that wouldn’t stop hurting. Before, he had been good at letting go – even with Qui Gon, he was good at it.

But this? This...this he could not quite let go of.

He could feel her presence before she so much as entered the room. And when she entered, if anything, the worry on her face was enough to make him feel if only the first pangs of guilt for upsetting her so. Then she spoke. “Are you all right?”

“I am, I am.” Obi Wan sighed. “Simply...nightmares.”

“Nightmares?” Sabe’s brows furrowed. “Of what sort?”

“Just...nightmares. About the war. I mean,” Obi Wan said, trying to inject some degree of levity into his tone, “It comes with the territory, I suppose.” He had been good at trying to inject a degree of humor to lighten the situation. Always had. And yet even now, he didn’t quite believe it himself.

Sabe sighed and shook her head. “Obi Wan,” she said, “If they’re bothering you so...just tell me.”

“All right.”  
  
Obi Wan took a deep breath. Even telling her about the nightmares was enough to hurt his heart; recounting the man who battled with Padmè, and Sabe getting hurt, and so much more...when he finished, he felt, almost, as if someone had cut him open if only to cut out his heart.

No, not just that. He felt almost shaky, and drained, and exhausted even talking about it – and yet at the very least, he could take a degree of consolation from the fact that Sabe was here, and all was well.

“Obi Wan,” Sabe said, softly, “It’s just a dream. I really doubt that it’s going to come to pass.”

“I don’t know. The future is always in motion, after all.” Obi Wan reached up if only to rub his temples; it felt as if there was a loose thought in there, rattling in around his mind and refusing to leave.

The loose thought in question being the nightmare, and his fears for the future.

“Well,” Sabe said, “If the future is always in motion – then maybe it means that the dream is just a dream, and it’s not going to come to pass.”

“It keeps occurring.”

“Then maybe there’s a way to prevent it. After all,” Sabe said, “What use are choices if you can’t change your own fate?”

Obi Wan could only suppose that she was right. And yet, at the same time...

“Perhaps,” he said, “The question is how to do it.”

“If we find the Sith Lord,” Sabe said, “Perhaps then we can find a place to begin.”

Obi Wan grinned. “Did anyone ever tell you that you are a genius, Sabe?”

“I try.” A smile came across Sabe’s face, and a degree of her old humor and mischief seemed to return.

In spite of everything, the both of them laughed. And then Obi Wan faltered. “Sabe,” he said, “Whatever happens, we are going to find Dooku and Grievous and bring them to justice.” A pause. “Perhaps find a way to save Dooku if we can.”

Sabe nodded. Then she faltered as well. “Obi Wan,” she said, “I’m not saying that this is a bad thing, but...after all that Dooku’s done, why do you want to save him?”

There were so many reasons now that Obi Wan thought about it. Perhaps it was the fact he was Qui Gon’s master once – thus, Obi Wan was trying to get into contact with a man he had barely gotten the chance to know. A sort of grandfather figure to him, of sorts – after all, Qui Gon had been almost like the father he had never had. Perhaps it was the fact that Dooku was great once, and he could be so much more if he allowed himself to be. Perhaps it was the fact that, if anything, it was the Jedi thing to do. In the end, he said, “Because even he was a great man once, Sabe. Perhaps one of the greatest men on the Council. And if anything...” He sighed. “I have to believe he can be saved. Perhaps then...then we can do something right for once.”

“You’ve done a lot of things right.”

“I don’t know.”

“Whatever you may have done, you did it for the right reasons,” Sabe said. “We’ve all had to make sacrifices. If anything...whatever others have said, they’re wrong.” She smiled. “I think the best way to put it is that every last one of the Jedi are good men and women, no matter what.” A pause. “Including you,” she said, more lightly, “But that may be some degree of favoritism on my part.”

And in spite of everything, they both laughed. At least, Obi Wan thought, some degree of a weight was lifted off his shoulders. Perhaps the end of the war wouldn’t be easy. Perhaps averting a bad future wouldn’t be easy – but it didn’t mean that they couldn’t try.


	15. Chapter Fifteen: Decision, Right, Responsibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Obi-Wan makes his first decision to step into the lair of the Minotaur without knowledge of what he's getting into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

There was something about sitting in the Council chamber that felt almost unexpectedly uncomfortable. Which it shouldn’t have felt like. If anything, Obi Wan thought, the Council were still friends, of course, weren’t they? They were still on the same side. They were in this if only to end the Clone Wars together.

 

And yet at the same time, there was something prickling in the back of his head that told him that, if anything, this wasn’t the case. If anything, there was something prickling in the back of his head that was enough to make him feel, almost, as if there was something more going on than he was willing to acknowledge. It didn’t help that going to Master Yoda...he hadn’t felt, even now, like he had gotten any answers.

 

_“Premonitions...premonitions...” The way Yoda looked at Obi Wan, Obi Wan swore that Yoda could see right through him. Right through him, into his soul and towards the lies that he was trying so desperately to hide. The truth that he was trying to conceal. The truth of Sabe, and the reaction he had had when she had revealed her pregnancy to him. The truth of Padmè and Ahsoka and their grief over Ahsoka. If Obi Wan could turn back time, if flow walking were possible..._

_No, sadly, flow walking wasn’t possible. Even the process of changing timelines...one couldn’t simply walk the white current, as the Fallanassi put it, and undo the damage. Only the Force could truly change time and set things right. Which was something that Obi Wan couldn’t help but be frustrated by. It wasn’t something that he was frustrated by before – if anything, he had learned from an early age to accept things such as death being a natural part of the Force and a path everyone had to take. And yet at the same time, the more he thought about it, he wished that it wasn’t the case._

_Or at least, he wished he could harness the power of the white current and with one decision, one outside push, undo every day filled with grief and pain. Undo Ahsoka’s death and the grief it had brought with them. And then there were other times, when Obi Wan wished he could at least get some sort of cosmic death weapon and wipe every stanging Separatist ship out of the sky just to stop them from hurting everyone else –_

_And it was there that he felt ashamed. Because genocide, a desire to cause pain...that was not the way of a Jedi. And he was a Jedi, still – he was better than this. He was far better than this. And Master Yoda...Yoda had been his dearest friend since he was no more than a boy. An infant, even. If Yoda could see what had happened to him, if Yoda could see what the war had done to him..._

_Sometimes, Obi Wan thought, Yoda looked at what the Jedi had done, what the Republic had done, what the Separatists had done, what they had all done to the galaxy and the lives of innocent people and, pure and simply, turned away in shame. After all, it was better, far better, than to face the truth of what they had become._

_Yoda continued. “Rare gifts are they. Gifts and curses, signposts and snares...what do you see?”_

_“They...” Obi Wan bit his lip; he almost didn’t want to think about the hooded man. He almost couldn’t bear it. “They are of pain,” he said, “Suffering. Death.”_

_“Hmmm...” Yoda’s brow seemed to wrinkle even further, wrinkles gathering already on a forehead adorned with no doubt centuries of wisdom. He seemed sadder now, and more vulnerable than Obi Wan had ever seen him. “Someone you love, you see, or someone close to you?”_  
  
“No.” Which was true, Obi Wan supposed. At least from a certain point of view. “I see...I see the entire galaxy burning.” Even saying it was enough to make his voice waver. He tried to compose himself, if only quickly. There is no emotion...there is peace. There is no passion...there is no serenity. There is no ignorance...there is knowledge. There is no death...there is the Force.

 

There is no emotion...

 

_That was an easy one. Whatever the circumstances brought, whatever the galaxy wrought, one had to meet it with the utmost calm and serenity. A tree standing strong in a storm. It was only right, after all. It was only who they were._

There is no passion...

 

_But that...that was where it got harder. Truly. Because Obi Wan had tried, if only in the past, not to be swayed by passion. And yet there was Sabe. He hadn’t imagined that he would feel this way for anyone, and yet here he was._

_And then there was Padmè. His dearest friend. And Ahsoka – their Padawan. The Padawan that could have been their daughter, in a sense, bearing Padmè’s kindness and Obi Wan’s cutting wit and both their brilliance. And on top of that, a sense of practicality that none of them could honestly lay claim to. She had led the younglings so far, and, if anything...she could have been a Knight someday._

_And the Separatists had murdered her. Plenty of lives had been lost in war – Master Gallia, Master Billaba, and so many more. And yet Ahsoka...the Separatists had, in a sense, killed their daughter, so young and full of life and potential. Had cut her down like she was just another Jedi in the way of their goal. She was only eighteen years old at the time, and had learned so much. And they had killed her. She would never become a Master, never have a Padawan of her own..._

_Padmè had tried to console him, of course. And Shaak Ti, bless her, had also tried to help. “Padawan Tano wouldn’t have wanted you to grieve,” she had said. Padawan Tano...so formal. As if Shaak Ti was still trying to think of her as a mere Padawan whose life had been lost, when, if anything, she was so much more – not just to them, but to the Order. “Nor,” Shaak Ti had continued, “Would she have wanted you to give up hope. No matter what happens, Master Kenobi, you cannot give up hope. No matter what.”_

_Perhaps she was right. And yet..._

_The only thing that really kept him in the realm of sanity, at least, was the knowledge that Ahsoka wouldn’t have wanted him to become a murderer. And yet at the same time..._

_When he wasn’t dreaming about Sidious, sometimes he dreamed about other manifestations of the hooded man, chasing him. And no matter how Obi Wan ran from him, the hooded man seemed to be forever on his tail, speaking in his voice, bearing his eyes...and so much more._

_Yoda’s words cut him out of his reverie. “Mmmm...fear for the future, you do?”_  
  
“More than anything.” He felt so raw saying it, and yet at the same time...it was the truth. From a certain point of view. He feared for not only the future, but for the people he was close to, in a sense. For Padmè, for Sabe...for everyone.

_A pause._

_“Master Yoda,” Obi Wan said, and though something in him, something in him that was still that vulnerable Padawan that Qui Gon had left behind, was pleading,_ Please tell me that it’s going to be all right oh Force tell me that it’s going to be all right tell me it will be all right let me go back to the past and make it all right make me go forth into the future and make it all right i will do anything put me in Ahsoka’s place just help me make it all right master Yoda please make it all right, _he managed to suppress it if only slightly. Only slightly, though – it was still there, really. Niggling at him. The same fear that drove him running from the hooded man in his nightmares. “This future...will it come to pass?”_

_Silence._

_“Difficult to see,” Yoda said, “Always in motion is the future.”_

_“That is true.” Obi Wan could settle for that, at least._

_“But grieve you must not, at least not overly so. Weep for the dead you must not – rejoice for those who have turned into the Force. Weep for the living, you must, and those who live away from the light.”_

_That Obi Wan supposed he could settle for. And yet..._

_“Master Yoda,” he said, “Do you miss...?” He paused. “Do you miss Count Dooku?”_

_He didn’t know why he said it. And yet he had to know._

_Master Yoda paused. He seemed so very vulnerable, Obi Wan thought, and so very alone. Then: “We all mourn lives lost, Obi Wan. Whether they be our own or others, mourn we do. But live in the past we must not. The path to the Dark Side, despair is. For when despair clouds our vision, miss the bigger picture we do. Look to the light we must, as it is the best we can do.”_

_Perhaps he was right. After all, if Dooku and Yoda weren’t stopped...who knew what would happen?_

_“Thank you, Master Yoda,” Obi Wan said. “Thank you.”_

Perhaps Master Yoda was right, Obi Wan thought. He could not overly dwell in the past. Otherwise, it would most certainly kill him. Despair had driven Depa Billaba to the side of the Dark. Despair was forging them into war machines – war machines driven by duty, willing to do anything to win the war and bring peace to the galaxy. Every decision they made...for all Obi Wan tried to ignore it, Padmè’s words continued to haunt him: were they no better than the Separatists?

 

The only thing that really distinguished them from the Separatists, truly, was the fact that they had their morals relatively intact. The Separatists didn’t. They were completely amoral, really – willing to do anything to achieve their goals. They may have had standards, yes, but then again, Obi Wan supposed it was how they could destroy millions. Sparing one if only because of their code. After all, that was the way of evil – when the wind blew in the right direction, they happened to be kind.

 

It was the way of things. The way of evil. And the way of good, in a sense – the way of good men and women forced into war. There were shades of light and dark in everyone; the Force was never truly black and white. Only a Sith would go so far as to think that – the key was, pure and simply, not becoming them.

 

That, after all, was what made them who they were.

 

“You believe that whoever attacked had some degree of access to Five Hundred Republica?” Mace Windu, this time.

 

Shaak Ti spoke. “I believe that whoever it was...they must have found a way to tip Grievous and the others with him off if only to the location of the Chancellor. How to bypass the guards. And a lot more.” She took a deep breath. “I believe that if anything, there may be a traitor in our midst.”

 

Even in his mind, Obi Wan was trying to puzzle out possibilities. And yet...

 

Somehow, he thought, he couldn’t imagine who it must have been. He couldn’t imagine who it was. After all, just about everyone was loyal to the Chancellor, and the Republic...weren’t they?

 

Even those who didn’t necessarily agree with the Chancellor were loyal to the Republic and would never tip Grievous off to the way to get inside Five Hundred Republica and get to the Chancellor. Would they?

 

Mas Amedda, though...

 

No. The man was a coward, yes, but he was also extremely loyal to the Chancellor. The two of them were practically a single entity from what Obi Wan had observed.

 

And then...

 

Obi Wan sighed.

 

“I was wondering,” he said, “If I myself could find a way to figure out this mystery.”

 

Silence.

 

“Ah yes,” Mace Windu said. “I should have known.”

 

“We’re not going to get anywhere speculating. We might as well find a way to have an inside look at the Chancellor. I will report to you on his activities.”

 

Silence.

 

“Very well,” Master Yoda said. “Hope, we do, that you are up to the challenge.”

 

Even now, Obi Wan didn’t know what they had to worry about, or even what they had to be worried about. He supposed, however, that he would never really be able to know.

 

“I am,” Obi Wan said. “And I will not fail you. That is guaranteed.”

 

Silence.

 

“That was what I was afraid of.” Mace, this time. 


	16. Chapter Sixteen: Plans For A Brighter Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Obi-Wan and Sabe get more quality time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

It was long after Sabe had bid farewell to her guests at the meeting that she walked outside if only to find a way to refresh her troubled mind. There was something about observing the sunset on Coruscant that reminded her of better times. Going to Naboo with Obi Wan, observing the sunset with him. And even thinking of going to Naboo with Obi Wan...well, it would be better than worrying about the possibilities of the future ahead of her.

After all, going to Naboo had never been truly flawless. If anything, it had its trials and its tribulations. But even now, spending time with her nieces and her sister and her parents...at the very least, Sabe thought, it was far better than everything else that was happening thus far. Ahsoka’s death...she knew that Obi Wan had never been the same after that.

It was almost as if the Jedi Knight she had known, the Jedi Padawan she had known when they were both no more than teenagers, the now Jedi Master she had known had suddenly become a stranger to her. He had become darker, almost removed at times. It was things such as the revelation of her pregnancy that she supposed was best to keep in mind in these dark, uncertain times. After all, even if the Republic was falling apart and the galaxy was dying, they had something to rely on. One another.

The best they could both do was hold tight to their memories of Naboo – laughing on Naboo, riding the shaak together, talking, and so much more. The best they could both do was simply hold out hope, because otherwise, where would they be?

Sabe didn’t want to think about where they would be otherwise.

She could already hear soft footsteps on the veranda. She turned around, only to find Obi Wan, seeming if anything rather tired, and almost weary.

“Hello, Sabe.” He smiled if only slightly, but there seemed to be something strained in his smile. Almost tired.

“Hello.”

Even embracing him, taking time to at least feel a degree of shelter in terms of him being home, at least for the moment, Sabe could not help but feel a degree of uncertainty as well. She had spoken with Bail and Mothma and the others about the possibility of the Chancellor becoming corrupt – something that she never wanted to consider. And yet at the same time, it was the truth. The Chancellor was becoming corrupt if only because of the Senate – the Senate pushing more emergency powers on him the more he seemed to demand. He was becoming corrupt if only because of the pressures of the Clone Wars, and so much more.

The best Sabe could hope for – it was funny, in a way, almost ironic that “hope” was perhaps the best defense in these times. And yet at the same time, it was bizarrely fitting, at least in a way – was the idea that once the Clone Wars were over, the Chancellor would return emergency powers to the Senate, stop trying to propose amendments to the Constitution, and open peace talks with the Separatists. Something that was no doubt an unpopular opinion in the majority of the Senate – which, long after things such as the assassination attempt, was out for blood – but at the same time, it had to be done.

After all, if they could find a way to welcome the Separatists back into the Republic or otherwise make peace with them...that would be a miracle in and of itself. A miracle that nobody even thought to try, but at least a miracle.

“Are you all right?” Drawing momentarily out of the embrace, Obi Wan’s brows seemed to be furrowed in concern. “You seem uneasy.”

“I’m all right,” Sabe said. “I mean...just a long meeting.”

“Oh. What for?”

“Mostly regarding the matter of the Chancellor. I...” Sabe bit her lip. “I really am worried about him, Obi Wan. I know that he has good intentions, and that he simply wants to protect democracy and the Republic, but his methods are...”

“Questionable? Yes.” Obi Wan gestured towards the couch on the veranda, where the two of them now sat. At least there was something about Obi Wan’s presence that was momentarily soothing. “Very.”

There was silence.

“How is,” Obi Wan said, a slightly lighter expression and tone returning to him; for a moment, he seemed like his old self again. The good natured, good humored, affable young man that she had fallen in love with. “Our newest member of the family?”

“Oh.” Sabe grinned. She took Obi Wan’s hand. “Do you want to – ’’

“Feel it? Of course.”

Even touching Obi Wan’s hand to her belly, Sabe had to chuckle when Obi Wan pulled it back at the first kick. “Well,” Obi Wan said, with a slight laugh, “With a kick that hard...I can only promise that there are great things ahead for this child. No matter what they may be.”

Sabe laughed. And for a moment, the matter of the Republic falling apart was momentarily forgotten. “Who do you think the child will be?”

“Will be? Well,” Obi Wan said, “The future is always in motion, as Master Yoda would say...” There was a note of mischief in his voice.

“Obi Wan,” Sabe said, but she was grinning even as she said it.

“All right, very well,” Obi Wan said, in a tone of mock defeat. There was a note of affection in his voice, however. “I think that the child may be a girl. At least,” he said, smiling, “That’s what the Force seems to tell me.”

“I certainly hope so. I wonder,” Sabe said, “What we’re going to name her?”

Silence.

Obi Wan seemed to be lost in thought. No, more than that. He seemed so very far away, and so very alone.

Then, “I don’t know. The name Mara may be a good one.”

At that, the baby seemed to kick again. Sabe smiled. “I think she likes it.”

“Indeed?” Obi Wan playfully seemed to arch an eyebrow. “She likes the name?”

Sabe guided his hand once again to her belly. Obi Wan raised an eyebrow again even as the baby kicked.

“She seems to like the name,” Obi Wan said, softly. There was something in that smile, however, that seemed almost melancholy, at least to Sabe. “Mara Kenobi.” The melancholy seemed to become sharper now, more poignant, even as he spoke, and yet even now, there was something of hope in his voice. “She’ll be superb.”

“Yes,” Sabe said, if only softly. “Yes, she will.”

They sat now on the sofa, looking at the setting sun ahead. Then Obi Wan turned to look at Sabe. “Sometimes,” he said, in a voice that seemed so sad and near inaudible that for a moment, Sabe swore she couldn’t hear it at all, “I wonder what’s happening to the Republic. To all of it.”

“I know. But you can’t give up hope now, Obi Wan. That’s the way of the Jedi, isn’t it? To never give up hope?”

Silence.

“I’m not quite certain in regards to hope,” Obi Wan said, if only softly, “But yes...I think that may be the case.”

The silence seemed to stretch out for what seemed forever.

“Obi Wan,” Sabe said, “Just...” She sighed. “Just tell me anything. About one of your trips to the Outer Rim. Your experiences with some of the clone troopers, or the younglings. Just tell me whatever you can.” A pause. “I think we could both use the distraction.”

Silence.

“All right then,” Obi Wan said. “Let me tell you about a trip to the planet of Cato Nemoidia...” 


	17. Chapter Seventeen: The Tragedy Of Darth Plagueis The Wise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Obi-Wan enters the Minotaur's lair, so to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

It was later that Obi-Wan had to leave Sabe if only to go spy on the Chancellor. The best he could do was tell her that he would be back shortly before heading towards the opera. Taking the nearest shuttle towards the opera – it seemed that even in a wartime setting, Obi-Wan mused, the people of Coruscant seemed to be determined to act like nothing was going wrong, that it was the same as always. The only difference being the news of the Separatist attacks and conquests outside.

He knew that Padmè would have to face Grievous and Dooku and the others sometime. He could only pray that she was up to the challenge.

At least, Obi-Wan thought, even as he managed to bustle his way through the crowd, it at least seemed that some parts of Coruscant seemed reluctant to acknowledge that there was trouble on Coruscant. There were some people outside, Obi-Wan had noticed on the way to the opera, struggling in a long line to get food rations. And fights. Plenty of those, too.

He could only hope that the war would end. That everything would get back to normal. And yet he doubted it. Recovering from a war wasn’t as simple as the metaphorical snap of the fingers. It was a lot more complicated than that. And yet at the same time, he wished...

Obi-Wan sighed, slumping against the nearest wall, running a hand through his hair. If it had started graying at this point, he mused darkly, he wouldn’t have been surprised.

And then there was the matter of the mission itself. Padmè...Padmè, at least, would have found it easy to blend into the crowd at the opera and speak to Palpatine and get the necessary information out of him without him so much as noticing, but he, Obi-Wan? His relationship with the Chancellor was tenuous at best. He and the Chancellor...well, one could say they had grown slightly closer during the war, but that honestly didn’t say much.

It was in the opera house that Obi-Wan saw the display – the iridescent display ahead of the Mon Calamari production, “Squid Lake”, a story about two lovers kept apart by an evil magician. Obi-Wan had to raise his eyebrows, if only slightly. Not exactly the sort of production one would expect to air during wartime, but then again, it could have been some slight bias on his part. After all, he had been so frazzled by the war and just about everything else that, in all honesty...sometimes it seemed almost ludicrous that the galaxy would keep turning, keep going when it seemed like everything they stood for seemed to be crumbling down.

Then again, Obi-Wan thought, he wasn’t really in the best of positions to be judging this matter. The nightmares about the hooded man, and so many other things...it was really no wonder that he was afraid, to say the very least.

The Chancellor was sitting in one of the front rows, surrounded by red guards, when Obi-Wan approached. Obi-Wan could already feel a twinge of nervousness in him, and it didn’t help that something in the Force told him that there was already something very, _very_  wrong with the Chancellor. Or at least his entourage. Or both.

Then again, he had never been really fond of politicians. Except for, say, Bail Organa and Sabe Amidala, he could not say that he was fond of politicians.

Still, the Chancellor didn’t seem to mind his presence. At least, he sent a friendly smile towards Obi-Wan and beckoned him to join.

Obi-Wan supposed that he had no choice. After all, the desires of the Council were elevated far above his own personal desires and personal beliefs. The needs of the mission outweighed the needs and opinions and baggage of the one carrying out the mission. It was something that some people outside the Order would no doubt not get, but Obi-Wan knew it to be true. He had been educated on that matter ever since he was a boy.

Once Mas Amedda and the others had been dismissed – much to Obi-Wan’s relief – Obi-Wan took a seat beside the Chancellor. “So,” Obi-Wan said, “You summoned me?”

“Yes.”

“Why not Padmè?”

“She was...busy.”

“Ah, yes.” The Council had already sent Padmè on a mission to search for Count Dooku and General Grievous. Obi-Wan could only wish her the best of luck. “So,” he said, “What did you wish to speak to me of?”

“Well, there’s some good news, news that came in quite recently. Clone Intelligence has located General Grievous and Count Dooku.”

The news should have at least gladdened Obi-Wan. Instead, something in him felt suddenly very hollow and very afraid.  _Padmè, oh Padmè...what has the Council gotten you into?_ Maybe Clone Intelligence could get the news to the Council before it was too late, and yet at the same time, Obi-Wan wasn’t exactly what one would call optimistic. Still, he tried to put on a glad face, of sorts, if only for the benefit of the mission. “That’s....good,” Obi-Wan said. “Definitely some of the best news that we’ve had in a while.”

“Isn’t it?” Palpatine said. “Now you can capture these monsters and end the war.”

Obi-Wan doubted he had ever seen Palpatine this invested. Even in some of his talks of the corruption of the Republic, Obi-Wan doubted he had heard such passion in the Chancellor’s voice. It was almost, for a moment, enough to make him believe. Then: “Chancellor...do you think that with the capture of Grievous and Dooku that the war is going to end?”

“Well,” the Chancellor said, “It’s not a given outcome, but it is entirely possible.” A pause. “Are you all right, Master Kenobi? You don’t seem to have slept well.”

“Oh, of course I’m fine. Just...nerves.” Obi-Wan was painfully aware of how flimsy an excuse that sounded. It was the best he could do, at least, considering the situation.

They sat in silence, observing the opera. Listening to the faint humming of the score, and the psychedelic light show that went on down below. Then Palpatine spoke. “I will confess, Master Kenobi, that I’m not entirely certain of the Council’s abilities to end the war.”

 _Why is he even telling me that? It’s like he_ wants  _me to find out what he’s up to! Him and so many others..._  But Obi-Wan had to try and keep his best “sabaac face”, as some would put it. To show no emotion. “Are you certain of that, Chancellor? The Council tries to do the best it can.”

“Perhaps,” Palpatine said, “But the matter of things such as that alliance with the Hutts...”

“It was necessary,” Obi-Wan said. “We’re at war – we have to do what we can. Even ally ourselves with more...unsavory individuals.”

He almost couldn’t believe that Palpatine was saying this.

Palpatine continued. “And from what I gathered from Padmè, they don’t seem to trust you, either. You or Padmè, for that matter. I believe they may be up to something.”

_He’s onto something._

Palpatine looked at Obi-Wan. “What is it, Master Kenobi?”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan said, “Nothing. I just...I simply don’t believe the Council would be conspiring against the Republic. It would seem counterproductive, after all, would it not?”

“Perhaps.” Palpatine leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers in a way that Obi-Wan felt uneasy. “Still...I will admit, Master Kenobi, I have been observing the matter of Jedi and Sith history, and I observed something quite interesting.”

 _Oh._  Suddenly, Obi-Wan found the opera production below far less interesting than Palpatine’s face. “Tell me more.” At least, Obi-Wan thought, it would provide him fuel to report back to the Council.

“There was an old Sith legend that I read of,” Palpatine said. “Have you ever heard of the tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise?”

“Not exactly, no.” Where was Palpatine going with this?

Palpatine folded his hands on his lap. “It told of a Sith Lord so powerful and so wise that he could keep people he cared about from dying.”

“But that can’t be done!” And yet at the same time, something in Obi-Wan could not help but be impressed. It was wrong, against the Jedi Code, and yet at the same time, he thought, it was  _extraordinary..._

“Apparently, it was.” Palpatine smiled, if only slightly. “It was a simple matter of manipulating the midichlorians to create or sustain life.”

_Simple..._

“I can’t imagine anything about that being simple, Chancellor.”

“True. But from what you’ve told me about the Force, and what Padmè has told me...nothing is truly impossible with the Force, is it?”

“Perhaps not.” After all, Padmè had managed to revive the dead. Perhaps the news of manipulating midichlorians wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

Obi-Wan slumped back in his seat. “What happened to him? This...Darth Plagueis, I mean.”

“He died.” Palpatine’s voice was soft. “His apprentice killed him in his sleep. It’s quite ironic that he could save others from death, but not himself.”

“That is a quite sad story,” Obi-Wan said (at least, it was somewhat sad, he supposed, he had to admit. Such talent wasted – and in the Sith ranks. In the Jedi ranks, he would be a genius. More than that, even – he would be  _beautiful_ ), “But what does that have to do with anything?"

Palpatine looked at him. “Haven’t you ever wanted to put things right, Obi-Wan? To undo the damage?”

Obi-Wan bit his lip. He had come to the Chancellor, once, after Ahsoka’s death – he hadn’t expected to start relying on the Chancellor, in a sense, and yet there he was. It was almost as if, for a moment, Palpatine was wearing down his barriers. And yet at the same time, there was something about Palpatine that made him, if anything, quite uneasy.

“I suppose,” he said, “But one can’t go against the will of the Force. After all...everything has its time and everything ends.”

“I believe those who lost their lives to the Separatists would disagree with you on that matter, Master Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan flinched; somehow, it almost felt as if he had been slapped. “They died  _heroes_ , Chancellor.”

“I’m not disputing that, Master Kenobi. I simply wonder...could events have been different if the Council had...acted differently?”

It was something that Obi-Wan hadn’t even realized that he wanted to consider. And yet at the same time, the possibilities began sizzling inside his brain – undeniable. Perhaps he could find a way to save Sabe from the horrible events in his dreams. To save Padmè. To stop the hooded man in his dreams. To stop the dissolution of the Order and the galaxy. To make it so, just this once, everything turned out right.

They needed more days like this, after all. All of them...all of them needed this.

“It is an interesting idea, Chancellor,” Obi-Wan said. “At least...it’s worth considering.”

Palpatine smiled, if only slightly. “Then you are learning.”

They sat in silence for the rest of the opera. And even long after the grand finale and the round of applause and the departure for Obi-Wan back to his apartment with Sabe, saying good night to the Chancellor and reassuring him that he had a wonderful time...even on the way back to the apartment, Obi-Wan could not help but wonder what the Chancellor meant by that phrase.  _Then you are learning._  It could mean anything, of course. It did not necessarily have to mean that the Chancellor was necessarily the Sith Lord. He could be any sort of renegade Force user, or maybe not even a renegade Force user at all. He could be anything.

Still, it was something worth considering to the Council. And if the Chancellor was indeed the Sith Lord, the Council could take him down or imprison him by any means necessary, stopping him from doing more harm.

And yet at the same time...

Even long after the shuttle dropped him off at Sabe’s apartment, Obi-Wan stopped a moment on the veranda leading to the apartment. Outside, the skies were streaked with the beginning of morning. He sighed, blearily rubbed his eyes.

Perhaps he could find a way to learn more about Plagueis. Perhaps Plagueis would be the key to solving this mystery of Darth Sidious. And perhaps, Obi-Wan thought, he could learn something as well. Something, anything, to undo every day of the Clone Wars. Every day dealing with Ahsoka’s death, every day dealing with the war – every day streaked with grief.

Every day, Obi-Wan thought, that felt like this. Uncertain and afraid.

Because this had gone on far too long.

It had to come to an end. 


	18. Chapter Eighteen: Deliberations and Revisions.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Sith Lord is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

There was something about the very idea of this Council meeting that was enough to make Obi-Wan feel almost uneasy. Which he supposed he shouldn’t be feeling. After all, they were on the same side, at least somewhat relatively enough. After all, they were friends, in a sense – and yet at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel almost uneasy. Even getting the information through to Padmè on the planet of Utapau, even getting the information that they were on the Mustafar system, and not Utapau...even seeing Padmè nod, Obi-Wan could not help but feel ever more fearful for his young...

Well, she wasn’t a Padawan anymore, not by any stretch of the imagination. And yet at the same time, Obi-Wan thought, she was still very much like a Padawan to him. In his mind’s eye, he could still see the bright eyed, inquisitive young girl that he had taken in long after Qui Gon’s death. In his mind’s eye, he could still see himself teaching her things about the Code, and her asking questions, and him telling her that, at least for now, she had to clear her mind of questions and meditate.

After all, a Jedi always had to be seeking knowledge. But sometimes, asking “why” a bit too much...sometimes it could do more harm than good. And Obi-Wan didn’t want to consider that fact. If anything, he doubted that he could ever consider that idea – that curiosity could –

He had to cut that thought off at the pass. It wasn’t just a matter of curiosity killing the metaphorical cat. It was a matter of galactic safety and security, security for the Republic, and finding out just how they were being played like pieces in a game of dejarik. It was a matter, really, of doing the right thing. And that, really, was what being a Jedi was all about, wasn’t it?

So it was long after Padmè had signed out that Master Windu turned to look at Obi-Wan. “Obi-Wan,” he said, and there was something about him calling Obi-Wan that and not “Master Kenobi”, or something similar, that surprised Obi-Wan. Moreso was the way he said it, really. Then again, perhaps it was just a slight overreaction on his part. “I think it’s time that you went to see the Chancellor.”

“That,” Obi-Wan said, “Goes without saying.” He stood up, turned back to look at the other Council members. Then Master Windu spoke again.

“Obi-Wan,” Master Windu said, “May the Force be with you.”  
  
“And with you.”  
  
As Obi-Wan strode out of the Council chamber, he could already feel one part of himself wondering what Master Windu was talking about. After all, what was the worst that could happen? It was simply an assignment of telling the Chancellor the news about Padmè going to engage Grievous and Dooku. It wasn’t as if anything could possibly go wrong.

And yet at the same time, it was a matter of gauging the Chancellor’s reactions. Which, something in Obi-Wan said, shouldn’t be happening. They were supposed to be on the same side, not being drawn in by Dooku’s lies about the Republic. After all, for all they knew, Dooku could have been playing both sides. Dooku could have been the true dejarik master, with “Darth Sidious” being, quite honestly, no more than a cover up.

And yet at the same time...

Somehow, Obi-Wan thought, the attack on Five Hundred Republica, as well as several other events, was far too precise to not have a Sith Lord somehow controlling it. Somehow –

And then there was the matter of Vader and Ventress. While the Council meeting had assured Obi-Wan that the two were at least recovering and being cared for in the finest prison cells that Coruscant had to offer (and the most high security as well), there was something in Obi-Wan that wondered if they were talking to the wrong person in the matter, in other words, Palpatine. Vader and Ventress...they would be reliable sources, wouldn’t they?

Obi-Wan sighed and ran a hand through his hair wearily.  _Focus on the mission, Obi-Wan Kenobi. That’s what matters. Nothing else. Do your duty for the Council and then report. That’s what matters in the end, doesn’t it? It’s the right choice and you know this._

And yet at the same time, he was nervous. He couldn’t help but feel it. Nervous, uneasy...

Even calling the nearest shuttle to take him to the Chancellor’s office, even taking the shuttle, there was something about sitting beside the red guards that made him feel almost uneasy. The new guards that Palpatine had put up to guard him – all right, maybe not new, Obi-Wan corrected himself. They had been around for quite a while. He had to suppress a sigh; sleep had become so rare nowadays that everything seemed, if anything, scrambled.

It felt as if events were blurring too close together, melting into a mess of time and seconds and days and months and years. A cauldron of confusion, one could say. At least focusing on Master Yoda’s teachings of patience and Qui Gon’s teachings about the Living Force, as well as mentally reviewing the mission over in his head again could at least somewhat keep him calm. Even running over the Code again (“ _There is no emotion, there is peace...there is no passion, there is serenity...there is no ignorance, there is knowledge...there is no death, there is the Force...”_ ) could at least stop him from going completely insane. And finally, they reached the Chancellor’s office.

Even getting off the shuttle and onto the platform, Obi-Wan could already feel his unease spike. Even ahead of him, the door to the Chancellor’s office seemed almost impenetrable, guarded by more men and women in red cloaks. More Red Guards. Red Guards that were highly trained in combat and ready to tear you apart if necessary.

Still, there was really no use in being afraid.  _There is no emotion, there is peace..._

At least memorizing the Code again could keep him from shaking.

Even speaking with the Red Guards, saying that he had a meeting with the Chancellor, something in Obi-Wan at least relaxed if only slightly. At least from here, hopefully, this would be slightly easier. Emphasis on the slightly.

But then again, it was just a meeting with the Chancellor. What was there possibly to be afraid of?

It was once he entered the Chancellor’s office that he heard traces of the Chancellor speaking with someone else. Some sort of meeting coming to an end. Jar Jar Binks was there, dressed in his best Senatorial regalia, as was Bail Organa, and Mon Mothma, and...Sabe?

He supposed that he shouldn’t be surprised. And yet at the same time, he was. If there was anyone more loyal to the Republic, it was Sabe. She was devoted to it. She would no doubt give her life for it if need be.

Padmè was the same way.

And Obi-Wan supposed that there was a trace of it in him as well. He couldn’t say that he liked where the Republic was going nowadays, but it didn’t mean that he didn’t think highly of it. Quite the opposite, really.

It was even hearing those last words from Sabe, “On behalf of the Petition of the Two Thousand...I thank you, Chancellor.” The way she said those words, she might as well have been pulling teeth saying them.

“As do I, Senator Amidala.” The Chancellor’s words seemed just as forced, as did his smile – and if anything, Obi-Wan mused, there was nothing at all funny about that. Not this time, at least. Usually, one would find a way to at least have some degree of a smile at accidentally using the word “force” as a pun – not exactly something recommended by the Jedi Code (while it didn’t disapprove of it, it didn’t exactly encourage it either. At least from what Obi-Wan could gather) but therapeutic nonetheless, especially in tough situations – but if anything, Obi-Wan’s mind was frazzled enough by the meeting (and not even the most routine recitations of the Jedi Code could assuage that feeling) to know that, in a sense, using the word “force” as a pun would be far from appropriate, as this situation was far from funny.

Even the reminder to himself that it was just a routine meeting with the Chancellor didn’t help. If anything, Obi-Wan thought, it almost made it worse. Padmè had some degree of practice with this. And so did he, he assumed, but this? This was far from what he ever expected.

The Chancellor continued speaking to Sabe about how it was a pleasure to meet with her group, in that same almost forced way, as if he was trying to be polite. Obi-Wan could sense, however, that the meeting had quite aggravated him.  _All those who gain power are afraid to lose it..._

And Obi-Wan could not help but wonder if that was what happened to Chancellor Palpatine. The man who had championed democracy so highly, who wanted nothing more than the best for Naboo, had become infatuated with power and afraid to let it go. It was something that had always made him extremely distrustful of...most politicians, at least. The idea that some were more out for their own power than anything else. It was enough, at least, to make him question some of the motives of the politicians that came out of there.

People such as Bail Organa and Fang Zhar and Sabe Amidala were honorable enough. But the others? They were mostly men and women in a position of power, squabbling like rancors over a scrap of raw meat while the rest of the galaxy suffered. And while some would accuse the Jedi of doing the same (the reporter Matthew Travis came to mind, sadly enough), at the very least, Obi-Wan thought, they at least cared something about the galaxy. Travis had been on the Holonet quite a while ago, asking why the Jedi were more concerned about people trying to secede from the Republic than about helping those on Tatooine, for example. “There are those in the Outer Rim that have been sick and dying,” Travis had said, in that sort of impassioned, furious tone that never failed to seemingly win him a viewing of millions (and a devoted army of sorts), “And the Jedi and the Republic are more concerned about those who would dare to secede from a corrupt government because of personal differences. How in any sense is that evidence of their alleged ‘clear’ thinking?"

It was enough to make Obi-Wan angry thinking about it. Because even if Travis had some points worth considering, did he not realize that those on Naboo had been suffering as well when the Trade Federation had first invaded? Labor camps that the Federation had built for them, for starters. Blockades. They hadn’t really expected a simple trade dispute to turn into a full scale war, but then again, Obi-Wan supposed, they were barely prepared for anything these days.

And then there was the matter of the Clone Wars themselves. Who was Travis, a mere civilian, to make the Jedi Council’s decisions for them? To assume that he knew who was worthy of living and dying? Going along that line of thinking – if one was to go along that line of thinking, at least too far along that line of thinking, it would most certainly lead them on the road to becoming a monster. Not at first – it would begin, no doubt, with the best of intentions. But eventually, like Dooku, like the Lord Revan and his Revanchists, it would descend into darkness, choosing who lived and died on a mere whim. It was not the Jedi’s place to decide what was more important. They were no more than the humble servants of a greater cause.

Obi-Wan supposed that he could understand why Travis would feel this way. After all, the man was almost all fire. All passion and conviction – some of it was no doubt just to get further Holonet ratings, as most shows did, but other parts...Obi-Wan had a feeling that he did mean it. In a sense.

The Jedi were not the cold, calculated beings that most wanted to believe that they could be. If anything, they did what they could. They did what was right, even if it meant going against what other people in the Republic would think was right. Perhaps they had committed crimes in the past – the story of Lord Revan and the Jedi Exile, for example – but those were the crimes of the past, and not the present. They were better than this. All of them.

At least, Obi-Wan thought, he could only hope that that was the case.

Otherwise, he would lose hope quickly. And that...that was far from a good thing.

The Delegation of the Two Thousand left now, but not before Sabe sent a glance Obi-Wan’s way. It was a simple glance, but even looking at her, it was plain and simple to see that she was thinking, or almost saying to him, even,  _What are you doing here, Obi-Wan?_

Obi-Wan supposed that it was best to explain to her somewhat. Perhaps after the meeting. Mouthing a quick,  _I will explain later_ , he then turned to look at the Chancellor. “Hello, Chancellor,” he said, “It’s good to see you again.”

“Hello.” Palpatine still seemed to be, if only slightly, irritated from the meeting that he had just experienced.

Obi-Wan turned to look back at Sabe, who was now exiting the room. He almost wanted her to be there, but at the same time...what if she learned of the true purposes of why he was here? To gauge the Chancellor’s reaction? To gauge whether or not the Chancellor was the Sith Lord that they were looking for?

Obi-Wan almost couldn’t believe that they were subscribing to a sort of philosophy where they had to believe Dooku’s statements about a Sith Lord running the Senate. For all they knew, Dooku could have been trying to throw them off. And yet at the same time...

Dooku had always been a well intentioned Jedi, even from when he was a boy. The incident with Lorian Nod aside, of course.

And yet at the same time...

Obi-Wan tried, at least, to keep himself composed. “The Jedi Council has acted on the information that Clone Intelligence has sent out, Chancellor. Padmè – I mean, Knight Naberrie, has gone to Mustafar to engage General Grievous and Count Dooku.”

Palpatine merely raised an eyebrow. “Indeed?”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan couldn’t help but feel if only slightly disappointed. In a sense, he had a feeling that this was, at least for now, nothing really to write to the Council about. If anything, it seemed to be the opposite of that. And then there was something in him that, despite everything, felt the first stirrings of anger. How could Palpatine be so seemingly apathetic and uncaring and utterly indifferent to the idea that Padmè, someone who looked up to him like a father, could possibly die out there?

Then again, Obi-Wan mused darkly, he supposed that he was foolish to expect anything better from Palpatine.

 _No. Stop. Don’t let your personal biases get in the way._ Obi-Wan took a deep breath, trying, at least, to compose himself. He only hoped that Palpatine couldn’t read what he was really feeling.

Then again, it wasn’t as if the Chancellor could use the Force. Obi-Wan could remember one comment from Mace Windu, at least once, about Palpatine making a fine Jedi. Which he supposed was true. And yet at the same time...

“Chancellor,” he said, and he almost didn’t know why he was saying what he was saying, but he supposed that it was just about anything to keep the conversation going. To gauge the Chancellor’s reactions. “Do you think that Knight Naberrie is up to the challenge?”

“There’s really no need to call your comrade ‘Knight Naberrie’. After all,” Palpatine said, calmly, “You have known her for quite a while.”

 _Ah_. “I suppose I have,” Obi-Wan said, and it was there that he realized just how anticlimactic that sounded, even in that moment.

“Of course. And why would you need to come to me in order to tell me – ’’

“I thought at least,” Obi-Wan said, “I mean... _we_  thought that you would like to know. After all, the war is about to come to an end, isn’t it?”

“I would not go so far as to say that, Master Kenobi.”

“Indeed?” Obi-Wan supposed at least  _now_ , the conversation was getting slightly more interesting. “Why is that?”

“Well, let’s be honest with ourselves,” Palpatine said, “Do you really think the war will be over when Grievous and Dooku are defeated? When the Separatists are defeated? Do you really think that the war will end if only with that?”

That was something that Obi-Wan had not considered. And even now, he thought, he wasn’t certain whether or not he wanted to consider it. He swallowed.

“Perhaps not, Chancellor,” he said, “But at the very least, it may be a new beginning.”

Silence.

Palpatine, if anything, seemed thoughtful. Then he said, “Master Kenobi...if we may have a further word?”

“Yes?”

There was something about following Palpatine into the antechamber with the antique Nubian art that Obi-Wan had to wonder about. Why would Palpatine need to have a word in there? It wasn’t as if there were any potential eavesdroppers.

 _Except me_. Obi-Wan supposed that he could, at least, count as some sort of eavesdropper. After all, he had volunteered for the mission.

He could only pray that Padmè didn’t really realize what he was really doing. That she didn’t realize that two of her mentors were essentially playing games with one another. Breaking her heart...Obi-Wan didn’t want to think of doing that. If anything, breaking her heart...

He had already seen her heart broken enough during the Clone Wars. Ahsoka’s death, and the death of Steela – to make the matter worse, they had been held back by the Council during all of this, and thus were unable to act. Even if the Council had some sort of reason for it, it was still enough to make Obi-Wan angry thinking about it. He could already feel the anger beginning to swell in him, to make its way through his hands, forming them, almost unconsciously, into fists. He tried to calm himself, tried to tell himself to focus on the mission and not on what the Council had done, and yet at the same time –

“Are you well, Master Kenobi?” Palpatine, cutting into his thoughts. Sounding almost concerned. Normal, really. At least, it sounded almost like some of the rare conversations of civility that they had. Padmè was the closest to him, almost like a daughter to him. Obi-Wan, if anything, was more like...more like...

He almost didn’t know what Palpatine would no doubt think of him. Probably as the overprotective older brother who kept holding her back. Which wasn’t his intention. He wanted the best for her. Wanted to help her. And yet at the same time, he knew that he couldn’t hold her back forever, at least back when she was a Padawan. Back when she was still a Padawan, and as cheerful and curious as the rest of them. Back when she looked at the galaxy through an almost childlike view, at least for Obi-Wan, and not as a hardened General, looking for the problems that needed fixing.

At least, as a General, some of that was still there. She still chatted with the troops eagerly as if she was one of their own, and sought to fix the matters of injustice and whatnot. And yet at the same time, there was something in her that was so much colder, so much sadder, and so much more distant. Obi-Wan doubted that he could put his finger on it. Some would have assumed, no doubt, that that was what the Jedi wanted her to be – sadder and slightly more detached (he said slightly if only because, in all honesty, nothing could really cause Padmè to be detached. Not once, not ever) and brutally pragmatic. Travis, Obi-Wan noted with a slight hint of distaste (well intentioned as the reporter might be, he was still very much wrong about a lot of things. Not that he would seem to care. At least, not from what Obi-Wan saw), would have said that that was what the Order wanted. Forging their students into brutally precise instruments of hatred – but he was wrong.

That was the way of the Sith.

The way of the Jedi was, at least, learning to let go of grief and hatred and fear. Those emotions no doubt couldn’t be helped, at least from what Obi-Wan had seen over the years. But learning to control them, to purge them – that was the mark of a great Jedi. That was the mark of a truly great Jedi.

And it was something that people like Travis didn’t understand. Perhaps it was not necessarily Travis’ fault, and yet at the same time –

 _What if he is right?_ A voice niggling in the back of his head, a voice that sounded, almost, like Padmè.  _What if the Order we have fought so hard to sustain no longer exists? And the Jedi are becoming no better than the enemies we fight?_

He could still remember his talk with Padmè long after Onderon. That idealism and conviction that blazed in his Padawan’s eyes, never fully able to be contained, as she spoke.  _“Master...Obi-Wan...” She bit her lip; she was far too self contained to fidget, but something in her posture told Obi-Wan that she almost seemed to want to. She looked up at him now. “This war is being caused by a failure to listen. I know that much. The Separatists...all they ever truly wanted was to leave the Republic peacefully and we pushed them into a position where they had no choice.”_

_“I wish I could believe you, Padmè,” Obi-Wan said, “But I can’t.” He took a deep breath. “I doubt we would have gotten involved in the first place if not for the lengths that they were willing to go to if only to accomplish their goal. Freedom from the Republic is an understandable goal, but the lengths they were willing to go to...that was wrong.”_

_“I’m not denying that,” Padmè said, “It’s only that...” She sighed. “I wish there was a better way.”_

_“There’s always a better way,” Obi-Wan said. “I know that all too well.”_

For all he had tried to reassure her and help her and teach her, at least in a sense, Obi-Wan could not help but feel a small part of him begin to disagree. The Jedi were keepers of the peace. And here they were, being pushed into a role that they were simply unable to really cope with.

 _We’re keepers of the peace,_ Mace Windu had told him once,  _Not soldiers._ All in regards to liberating Onderon. Padmè had had that idea. Something in Obi-Wan wondered how she could go along with the idea of liberating Onderon and yet say that the war was caused by a failure to listen...and then he reminded himself that whatever the reasons were, going deeper would lead to answers that he never truly wanted.

Still, a Jedi always had to be seeking knowledge. That...that at least, he was certain of.

Which was no doubt another reason he was in the Chancellor’s office. If he didn’t do this, if he didn’t find the Sith Lord in the Chancellor’s midst or otherwise, who would he be? He would be letting Padmè down, in a sense. Disappointing her. And that was the last thing he wanted.

Still, he would go through with this. Being cruel to be kind, at least. Cruel to be kind...that, he supposed, he could do.

“Master Kenobi,” Palpatine said, “What is troubling you?”

“Nothing truly, Chancellor,” Obi-Wan said. “You wanted to speak with me.”

“Oh yes.” Palpatine smiled, if only pleasantly. “But if you wish – ’’

“Actually, Chancellor,” Obi-Wan said, and he was fully aware of how much he was no doubt going against the rules of what was happening, but he had to at least get it out of the way. The Council had not necessarily sent him here to ask about ancient Sith legends, and yet... “The matter of Darth Plagueis...did he have any further plans before he died?”

Silence.

“Go on, Chancellor,” Obi-Wan said, “I am not going to indict you for mere curiosity in regards to a Sith legend.”  _Unless I have to..._  And even now, he could only hope that that would not be the case.

“Well,” Palpatine said, “If I recall correctly, he had many plans before he died. One of them, from what I read, was to subvert the Rule of Two – ’’

“Forming a Sith army?” Obi-Wan’s brows furrowed. “But why? What would he need them for?” Something in him told him that he already knew the answer, though.  _Forming an army to take down the Republic..._

“I cannot say. Most likely to safeguard his new Empire.”

“Empire?”

“Oh yes. He wished to avenge the Sith if only for the sake of the greater good.”

“How does one even do that?”

“The Sith...” Palpatine seemed thoughtful. “From what I have gathered, there really is no difference between the Jedi and the Sith. They are simply two different philosophies – one believes in power through understanding, and the other believes in understanding through power. That is truly the only difference.”

“I would not truly say so, Chancellor. With all due respect,” Obi-Wan said, “The Sith...they think inwards, only about themselves. That’s why they always lose.”

“And yet they keep finding new ways to survive over the years. It at least says something admirable, I believe, about their perseverance and determination.”

“I would – ’’ Obi-Wan couldn’t bring himself to, truly, finish that sentence. He couldn’t chalk it up to coincidence, because in the Force, there were no coincidences. He couldn’t chalk it up to luck either, because in the Force, there was no such thing as luck. “I would say that the Jedi do the exact same thing,” he said, and even that, in his mind, sounded anticlimactic. “It’s the way of things. The way of the Force.”

“And yet the Jedi have still found no way to adapt to the times. Taking children away from their parents – ’’

“It is for the best, Chancellor,” Obi-Wan said, and though something in him wondered why he was getting in a philosophical debate with the Chancellor, at the same time... “Attachments cannot be formed.”

“Indeed. But what of other cultures? What of other means? Wouldn’t you say that taking a child from those environments disrupts the entire basis of the culture? Disrupts a family? Disrupts a way of life? And what of these gatherings? Placing the younglings in danger all for lightsaber crystals.”

Obi-Wan suddenly went cold. Even that memory of Ahsoka and the younglings being abducted by Hondo and his men – though it had worked out for the best in the end, even that –

_Don’t think of Ahsoka. Don’t think of her. Just don’t._

“You still grieve for Padawan Tano, don’t you?”

“Chancellor, please,” Obi-Wan said, and he could already hear his voice beginning to crack. “Stop this.”

“But you do. And all these Jedi teachings,” the Chancellor said, if only softly, “Can’t really block out the grief that’s coming. I think I know, at least, why they believe in blocking off emotions. They’re afraid of them. Because they hurt, don’t they? Because you fear what may happen when you’re overwhelmed by emotion?”

“Chancellor, just  _stop_.” Obi-Wan could already feel the pain beginning to well back into his eyes.

“They are afraid,” the Chancellor continued. “Afraid of what they are capable of. They merely suppress their fear if only because the truth is too horrible. They are consumed by it. You have seen it, haven’t you? Fear of you, fear of Padmè, fear of what you could accomplish.”

“They are not afraid,” Obi-Wan said. “They...”

“And yet they are. They are afraid of me. Of what I could bring to them.”

Obi-Wan blinked away the tears, took a deep breath.  _There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no death, there is the Force._ He knew that somehow, repeating the first two lines would scarcely offer him solace now. “Of what you could bring to them?”

“Yes.” A hint of a twisted smile appeared on Palpatine’s lips. “For you see...Darth Plagueis was real. He was my master. He taught me everything I knew. Before I killed him, that is.”

“But you can’t possibly be – ’’

“I am, Master Kenobi.” A hint of somberness appeared now on Palpatine’s – no, the Sith Lord’s, Obi-Wan reminded himself – lips. “I am sorry. I truly am. But there was no other way.”

“Then who are you?” Obi-Wan knew that somehow, he already knew the answer, but he had to know.

Palpatine’s smile seemed to grow wider. “Who do you believe I am, Master Kenobi? I am the Sith Lord you’ve been looking for. I am Darth Sidious.” 

 


	19. Chapter Nineteen: I, Myself, For You, Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Padme heads to Mustafar to deal with Dooku and Grievous, and Obi-Wan confronts Sidious. The latter doesn't end well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

To say that there was something about Mustafar that made Padmè uneasy would be like saying that Kamino was wet or that Asajj Ventress and Darth Vader had some issues in their past that needed resolving (at least, from what she had heard) – it was both obvious and an understatement. Even drawing closer in her Jedi fighter, she could already see the lava boiling below, and the fiery red and yellow glow from outside the window of her fighter. From behind her, Artoo beeped in concern.

“I know, Artoo,” Padmè said. She rubbed her temples. “I just hope that the Council knows what it’s doing.”  
  
And for that matter, she hoped that her Master knew what he was doing. Wherever he was. And she hoped that Sabe, wherever she was, was safe.

If anything, she hoped that in terms of capturing (at least, even though there was the matter of the whole “killing” aspect in there as well, she hoped that she could at least capture Dooku and Grievous. There had been enough killing in this war, at least from her point of view), it would go off without a hitch. And that the war would end from there.

The Chancellor would probably find a way to make peace with the Separatists then. After all, the Chancellor was nothing if not honorable, and a good man. He loved democracy, and the Republic, and he hated as much as anyone else what the Republic had become. He was a good man. He would find a way to end the madness that had been set up when the Clone Wars had started. After all, it was only right.

Artoo beeped once again in concern.

“I’m all right, Artoo. Trust me. I’m just a bit worried.” Padmè turned back towards the window if only to bring the fighter closer towards the landing platform.

“ARE YOU?”

“Yeah.” Padmè smiled ruefully. “I just hope that the Chancellor finds a way to end the war quickly.”

“I WOULDN’T COUNT ON IT.”

“Don’t talk like that, Artoo,” Padmè said, “Of course he’s going to end the war.”

“WITH ALL THE EMERGENCY POWERS HE’S GAINED? I WOULDN’T COUNT ON IT.”

“He’s not like most Senators,” Padmè said, “Or...most politicians.” She said this word with a trace of embarrassment in her now, if only because honestly, most of the politicians she had met were quite good. Bail Organa was one. And Sabe. And the former Chancellor Valorum – the main problem, she mused, was that while Chancellor Valorum was a good man, he wasn’t what the galaxy needed in the end. Or what Naboo needed. At least from what Sabe had told her. She sighed. “Besides, I doubt he ever wanted this in the first place.”

“MAYBE HE DIDN’T. DOESN’T MEAN THAT HE’S BECOME MAD WITH POWER WITHOUT YOU SO MUCH AS REALIZING IT. OR US, AT THIS RATE.”

“I don’t know, Artoo.” Padmè rubbed her temples. “I just hope that I can bring in Grievous and Dooku without trouble. But knowing them, they’re not going out easily.” Grievous was, if anything, a very skilled duelist, and Dooku equally so. And here she was. For all her feats in the Clone Wars, taking on two accomplished Force users was, to say the least, problematic.

She only hoped that the Council hadn’t sent her off on a wild bantha chase. Then again, if she had learned anything about the Council over the years, it was that if anything, they were far from perfect. They were just as capable of making mistakes as the next man, woman, alien, droid, or what have you. They were only human, at least in a sense, in the end.

And yet...

“Artoo,” she said, “You’re going to have to stay with the ship this time. This is something I probably have to do myself.”

“NO.”

Padmè shook her head. “I don’t want you getting hurt, Artoo.”

“I’VE FACED WORSE SITUATIONS, PADMÈ. AND BESIDES, I AM NOT LEAVING YOU.”

Padmè swallowed, suddenly feeling very much overwhelmed. “Artoo,” she said, “You’re probably one of the best companions anyone could ever ask for.”

“YOU’RE REALLY SURPRISED BY THIS?”

“Not really. I mean...at least sometimes.” Padmè brought the fighter in for a smooth landing. “Ah...we’ve got it.”

“I SUPPOSE WE HAVE. SO, HOW CAN I HELP?”

Padmè paused, a sudden sinking feeling returning to her. Even thinking about what Grievous or Dooku could do to Artoo was enough to make her worry. Perhaps it was her being overprotective of Artoo, as the astromech was nothing if not sturdy and resourceful, and yet at the same time, she and Artoo had been through a lot together. Obi-Wan hadn’t really gotten along well with Artoo at first, but even he had gotten attached to the astromech.

And Padmè knew why. In a sense, Artoo getting hurt...she couldn’t risk another one of her friends being hurt.

_Don’t worry about it. Artoo can do it. He’s more than capable. Now go into the bunker and find Dooku and Grievous. It’s your duty, after all._

For a moment, Padmè could swear that she could hear Ahsoka’s voice as well.  _Honestly, Master, don’t be ridiculous. Of course Artoo can do it. He’s not weak. Now are you going to carry out your mission in finding Dooku and Grievous or not?_

Padmè sighed. “Artoo,” she said, “Just stay close to me. Provide backup.”

“PER USUAL? YOUR USUAL SOURCE OF FIREPOWER?”

“One could say,” Padmè said, smiling if only slightly.

“NO PROBLEM.” If anything, Artoo seemed more than cheerful about the mission. Padmè never really understood how Artoo could do that.

She could only assume that it was some sort of product of his programming. Or at least all these years he had never been memory wiped, he had picked up new quirks. Sarcasm, for example. And utter cockiness. It was something she liked about Artoo; it was almost like being able to bounce ideas off him, in a sense.

Padmè supposed that there was no time to waste. “Come on, Artoo,” she said, “Let’s get Dooku and Grievous.”

“YEP. LET’S.”

***

There was something in Obi-Wan that felt, suddenly, very overwhelmed if only looking Palpatine in the eye. The knowledge that the Chancellor had been the Sith Lord that they had been looking for all this time was enough to make Obi-Wan wonder how they had managed to be deceived this easily.

And yet at the same time, he had a feeling as to why. The Sith – to infiltrate the Republic, you would need geniuses, no doubt. Especially if said job was becoming Supreme Chancellor if only to manipulate the Republic into going to war. And Palpatine – no, Obi-Wan corrected himself, Sidious – was nothing if not a genius.

And they had all been deceived so seamlessly.

The worst part about it was that in a sense, Palpatine was right. The Jedi Order had been unable to adapt. The Sith, in the meanwhile, had adapted far too easily. And here Palpatine was, revealed as Sidious, at the mercy of Obi-Wan’s lightsaber.

Obi-Wan hadn’t even been aware of drawing his lightsaber. All he could really, honestly, remember was that feeling of dizziness and disbelief before suddenly, he had heard the _snap-hiss_  of a lightsaber. And he had drawn it, apparently, because his very own lightsaber was suddenly drawn and pointed at Palpatine’s. Even trying to tell himself to not kill Palpatine, to not kill Sidious, that Jedi were not vigilantes...even that didn’t work, because finally, his dreams were clicking into place. Palpatine – Sidious – had been ruling the Republic for such a long time they hadn’t realized it.

And now the Republic was doomed.

Doomed to fall into darkness, into death, and so much more, unless Obi-Wan killed him.

And yet what man would he be if he did that? Jedi were not vigilantes. And if he killed Sidious...would he truly be any better than the man who was doing such a thing?

He could still remember his talk with Padmè in regards to Cad Bane long after Mace and the others had interrogated the bounty hunter if only to find information on the Masters such as Barriss Offee, who were being held captive.

_“Bane was evil. At least, he was working for the Sith.” Even saying the words somehow tasted sour, rotten, uncertain. “And the Jedi Masters were in danger. He was withholding vital information.”_

_“He wasn’t the one who was invading someone else’s mind to_ get _information.”_

_Obi-Wan sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Padmè...I never wanted to do something like this. Believe me. I did not. But there was no other choice.”_

_“There’s always a choice; the Code’s taught you that much, hasn’t it?” Padmè’s voice was pleading now. So earnest. So utterly frustrated that in a way, it was easy to be taken in by it. “What’s happening to us, Master? What’s happening to you? What are_ you _changing into?”_

Even if they had semi-resolved the matter (emphasis on  _semi;_ Obi-Wan doubted that they would ever be able to resolve the issue no matter how they tried) by the end of the evening, the words now floated back to haunt him with fiercer conviction than he had ever imagined. And it didn’t help that Sidious was just smiling at him with a sort of smugness that made Obi-Wan want to momentarily give into his anger, to kill Sidious just to end the Clone Wars once and for all –

But what would it make him? Would it make him the hooded man from his nightmares? Would he take Sidious’ place?

What would happen to him?

And most of all, as Padmè had said once, what was he changing into?

“Are you going to kill me, Master Kenobi?” Palpatine – Sidious – was looking up at him, still smiling. How he could still be smiling so smugly even with a lightsaber pointed at his throat – then again, Obi-Wan supposed that he knew that smile. It was the sort of smile that one had when they had the upper hand over someone else, and they thought they didn’t know.

Obi-Wan at least knew now.

“It would be all too easy to.” And that, he supposed, was true enough. He sighed, deactivated his lightsaber. “But I can’t.”

“Indeed?” Palpatine raised an eyebrow. “I suppose I should have suspected such, Master Kenobi. Your devotion to the Jedi Code is predictable as ever.”

“It is the least I can do,” Obi-Wan said. “There have been too many good men and women who have fallen to the Dark Side. Most through your actions, Chancellor. Through the war that you started.”

“It was a necessary war.”

“Necessary?” Even that word was enough to make Obi-Wan feel almost sick.

“Yes.” Palpatine was utterly calm, neutral, almost as if he were ordering dinner. “The Republic was corrupt. Decadent, rotten to the core. It needed to be reformed.”

“Through you taking over? Through you utterly eroding the Constitution and everything it stands for?”

“Senator Amidala has rubbed off quite thoroughly on you, hasn’t she?”

Even that mentioning was enough to make Obi-Wan freeze.

“Do you think I don’t know? Naboo is my  _home_ , Master Kenobi. Of course I would know that you and Senator Amidala were married. I know that you would do just about anything to keep her safe.”

_There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no death, there is the Force. There is no emotion –_

And yet even repeating the Jedi Code to himself wasn’t enough to calm him. To calm his nerves.

“Join me, Master Kenobi. Think of what we could accomplish together.” The Chancellor’s voice was suddenly filled with such passion that Obi-Wan was almost terrified. “A safer galaxy. A better galaxy. A galaxy free of corruption. A galaxy free of slavery and disease and chaos. Think of it. Isn’t that what you want most?”

Silence.

“I can’t do it, Chancellor. Because for all your offer tempts me...it is far from real.” And yet at the same time, something in Obi-Wan wanted it to be. “I’m sorry. I truly am sorry. But I’m afraid that I may have to turn you over to the Council.”

A flash of anger entered the Chancellor’s eyes – and for a moment, Obi-Wan swore that they turned bright gold – but it disappeared as quickly as it came, and the Chancellor returned to his usual serenity. “Very well. Go to the Council then. But at least consider my offer. And when you have accepted, come to me. I will be waiting.”

That, Obi-Wan supposed, was true enough.

And as he left the Chancellor’s office, he could already feel the emotions that he was trying so badly to suppress begin to come back to swamp him in waves.

_There is no emotion –_

_There is no passion –_

_There is no ignorance –_

_There is no death –_

_No death –_

_No death –_

Obi-Wan Kenobi collapsed outside the doors leading to Mace Windu in the console room and buried his face in his knees – and he wept. 

 


	20. Chapter Twenty: Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Obi-Wan tells Mace what happened, and the dejarik board is set, so to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

It took a while for Obi-Wan to compose himself before going to find Mace Windu. The best he could do, at the very least, was try and find Mace and tell him what happened. Even if everything he had ever believed in had been shattered, at the very least, he could try and save the Republic. Telling Mace. Telling Mace – that was good.

At least, it gave him some sort of objective in the midst of all this confusion.

Padmè was already speaking to Mace via hologram as Obi-Wan entered. “I’m already on Dooku’s tail,” she said, “And Grievous’. Let’s say...” Padmè laughed, if only wearily. “I think that Grievous is a much more insane driver than Vader ever was. And that’s saying something.”

Her hologram was pretty shaky. Obi-Wan could only assume that Padmè was already on Grievous and Dooku’s tail.

“Just be careful, Knight Naberrie. May the Force be with you.”  
  
“And with you, Master Windu.”

Once the transmission ended, Mace turned to look at Obi-Wan. “Master Kenobi? Is everything all right? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Mace...” Obi-Wan swallowed. “I can’t say I’ve seen a ghost. But I do have some bad news. Chancellor Palpatine...” He almost couldn’t say the words, but he had to say them. Had to. Otherwise, what Jedi would he be?

“What is it, Master Kenobi?” Master Windu seemed almost on edge.

“Chancellor Palpatine is a Sith Lord.”

There. There were the words, out in the open. The revelation that Obi-Wan never thought he would have to make. And yet there it was. Plain as day.

The look on Mace Windu’s face – it was a look that Obi-Wan had seen only once. After Depa Billaba had been put into a comatose state if only to save her life. The look in his eyes, so empty, so haunted, so utterly sad – it was enough to make Obi-Wan wish he hadn’t said those words.

And then, slowly, Mace Windu spoke. “A Sith Lord?  _The_ Sith Lord?”

“Yes. The one we’ve been looking for.” A pause. “Master Windu, I am so sorry – ’’

“There is no need, Master Kenobi. There’s simply...only one thing left to do.” Mace Windu rubbed his temples blearily before heading towards the door, lightsaber in hand.

“Wait!” Obi-Wan spoke now, quietly pleading with Mace.  _Let me go with you. Let me help you. This is as much my responsibility as yours, if not moreso._

“What is it, Master Kenobi?”

“Let me go with you. Let me help you. Just...” Obi-Wan trailed off, almost unknowing of what he was going to say next. And there he stood, so very alone, and so very afraid and uncertain and wanting to do something right and yet not quite knowing what –

Mace walked towards Obi-Wan now and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Obi-Wan,” he said, and Obi-Wan knew that with Mace using his first name, they really had to be in trouble, “You have already earned my trust. Just remain in the Council chambers until I return.”

“But – ’’

“I will be all right,” Mace said, “There’s no need for fear.”

“I know.”  
  
Fear was the path to the Dark Side. Obi-Wan knew this well. Fear led to anger, anger led to hate, hate led to suffering...and Obi-Wan had no desire to go down that path. And yet at the same time, he was so very much afraid.

“May the Force be with you, Master Windu.”

“And with you, Master Kenobi.”

Mace left then. Obi-Wan could only watch as the fighter that Mace had borrowed for the moment lifted off from the control center, and towards Five Hundred Republica.

Obi-Wan sighed and rubbed his temples. He knew that his rightful place was in the Council Chambers. And yet at the same time...

_No. Do what Master Windu says. You’ve done your duty, nothing more. Now go to the Council Chambers._

And almost as if he were a Padawan following his duty, so long ago, Obi-Wan did so.

After all, it was the least he could do, in the end.

It was who he was. Who he had always been.

And yet even entering the Council chambers, he could not help but wonder how wrong things were going to go this time.

***

The board was set. The pieces were moving. And everything was in place for the final confrontation. Even in the Chancellor’s office, the Sith Lord Darth Sidious could already feel the emotions radiating from every place, every corner of the galaxy: the fight between Padmè, Dooku and Grievous was drawing to a close. Master Kenobi was grieving and conflicted, and Master Windu, no doubt desiring revenge.

And something more. Ventress and Vader were finally awakening. Ready to fight. Ready to wreak vengeance. And somehow...it was wonderful.

Everything was in place for the final confrontation. And long after he defeated the Jedi Masters, he would give the order to the clones that he had embedded in them long ago: Order 66. The death of all traitorous Jedi across the galaxy. It was only right, after all. They couldn’t get in the way of the new Empire he planned to create.

It was only a pity, Sidious mused, that he wasn’t there to watch them die.

The recording device was already in place, if only to pick up their conversation. If the part was played right, it would be easy to indict the Jedi, in a sense. And from the ashes of the Jedi’s attack, the Empire would rise, victorious.

The Sith ruling the galaxy as it should be.

And that, that enough, gave Sidious faith after all these years. The bickering Senators, Master Windu losing faith in him, the Jedi’s utter stodginess and stupidity and corruption, and so much more. Good could come out of this situation, in a sense

This was far from the end of the Clone Wars.

This was only the beginning. 


	21. Chapter Twenty One: Duty, Right, Responsibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Windu and co. prepare to take out the Chancellor, and Obi-Wan makes a fateful decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Seriously, I own nothing.

There was something about the simple thought of heading towards Five Hundred Republica to arrest the Chancellor that made Master Windu uneasy. On the one hand, it was something that on the surface, seemed at least somewhat easy. After all, he had some of the best Jedi Masters with him. Saesee Tiin, Kit Fisto, and Agen Kolar, for one thing. And yet at the same time, there was something that he could not help but wonder about. He could still remember the aftermath of interrogating Cad Bane. Padmè had been less than pleased about that, to put it mildly, even frightened at the idea that they were going to kill him.

Of course they wouldn’t kill him, of course, but at the same time, something about her fear and desperation struck him. Something about it was enough to make him wonder, in the end, even after they managed to rescue Barriss Offee and the other Jedi Masters, if the Jedi were becoming, at least in a sense, vigilantes. They were keepers of the peace, after all, not soldiers; he had said that much to Chancellor Palpatine long after the attempted assassination of Senator Sabe Amidala. And yet at the same time, the Clone Wars seemed to be pushing them into a role that none of them truly wanted.

Even Agen Kolar had wondered if they were going too far, and even then, whether or not it would be enough standing against Darth Sidious.

“It is the only chance we have,” Mace had said to him, even contacting him, “I can’t say that I like it either, but it isn’t as if there is any other way.”

And yet even heading towards the Senate building, Mace could not help but wonder if there was another way. As Jedi, there was always another way.

And yet...

“Master Windu,” Agen Kolar said, “Are you well?”

“I am.”

“There’s no need to cover your feelings,” Kolar said, evenly. “I can already sense them. You are angry about the Republic, are you not?”

The question was enough to catch Mace off guard. Though Jedi were not supposed to be attached to anything, Mace would be lying if he did not acknowledge some of the things they were attached to. Master Yoda was quite attached to the younglings, for one thing. There were times when Mace saw Yoda as almost a slightly offbeat uncle or grandfatherly figure to them – an unconventional one, one could say, considering the upbringing that the Order had, but an uncle or grandfatherly figure nonetheless – especially in some of the training sessions. Master Ki Adi Mundi was one of the few Masters on the Order that had several wives and children, and he loved them more than anything else.

And then there was Mace.

Mace could not say there were many things that he was attached to. And yet at the same time, they were there. Depa Billaba, for example – a young woman that he was attached to (no, loved) almost as much as a daughter. If the Force had granted him a daughter, it would have been her.

And confronting her deep in that cursed jungle was perhaps one of the worst things he had to do. He could still remember the sight of her comatose form, and wondering how they had come to this.

It was the work of the Dark Side, the work of war. Mace could not help but wonder in that moment if that was what the war was doing – pushing them towards things that they wouldn’t normally do.

He had tried to be there for Padmè when Ahsoka Tano had died for that very reason. He could not say that he was quite good at comforting other people, but it was the least he could do in the end.

_“Ahsoka Tano’s death was not in vain. Nor would she have wanted you to give up hope.”_

_Padmè looked up at him, and for a moment, Mace could see not the Daughter of the Suns that would either bring them balance or bring their destruction, but a young girl. A girl far from home, far from family, a girl who had been shoved into the role of a soldier along with the rest of them. A girl shoved into the role of Chosen One and Daughter of the Suns in a way that she did not want._

_“I guess not.”_

_“There are no ‘guesses’ when it comes to the Force, Knight Naberrie.”_

_“I know.” Padmè gave him a slight, watery smile. “It’s only that...I’m not quite sure.”_

_“If Ahsoka were in your position, what would she have done?”_

_Padmè swallowed then. She seemed to visibly be trying not to cry. If Mace was skilled in such things as comforting, he would have found some way to show her that she wasn’t alone. He supposed just being there was enough._

_“She would keep going.” A pause. “But what about you, Master Windu? You and Depa...I’m sorry to ask, but...are you all right?”_

_A pause._

_“I have no idea what you mean.”_

_“I mean,” Padmè said, “Are you all right?”_

_That question caught Master Windu off guard. “I suppose I am,” he said, “For the time being.”_

_“I don’t mean to pry. I’m simply worried about you.”_

_Mace had to suppress a sigh. Sometimes Knight Naberrie could have too much empathy in her for her own good. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, empathy, but at the same time, if one wasn’t careful, it could overwhelm them. Terrible things happened to those filled with too much empathy – driving them mad, taking their desire to make things “better” too far –_

_He supposed that was the case with some of the more infamous Sith Lords, emphasis on “some”. They wanted to make things “better” – never mind that the matter of better was left to the will of the Force. One could not fix everything. One could only do what they could and let the Force take care of itself._

_It was difficult, yes, but at the same time, what else was there to do? Emotions could not get in the way of duty, after all._

_Still, he supposed it was slightly different for Padmè. The young General hadn’t been trained from birth to be a Jedi. She was different._

_And in hindsight, Mace noted, if only with shame, that was perhaps one reason they had been frightened of her._

_“You’re very kind, Knight Naberrie,” Mace said, “But I am fine. I am at least doing what I can to honor Depa’s memory."  
_

_“I suppose that I should do that too,” Padmè said. “I know that I’m trying. I can’t say I always succeed, but I am...”_

_“There is no try and you know that. Only do.”_

_“I know.” Padmè smiled if only slightly. “And Master Windu?”_

_“Yes?”_

_“I really am sorry about what happened to Depa. She deserved better.” Padmè’s eyes were earnest now. “I cannot say I knew her well, but she was a wise Council member and an honorable Jedi Master. I wish I had known her better.” She bit her lip. “I can only hope that Master Kenobi can carry on her legacy.”_  
  
“I have no doubt he will. And...” It was one of those moments where Mace was at a crossroads about what to say. “Thank you, Knight Naberrie.”

 _“I do what I can. May the Force be with you.”_  
  
“And with you.”

It was a small comfort, but at least it was enough.

The second thing that he was attached to, Mace realized, was the Republic itself. Because if nothing else, the Republic was the baseline of civilization. He could still remember teaching the younger Jedi under his care that, he could still remember teaching Depa that, that only with civilization is there truly peace. Civilization was a broad word, really, but in the end, from Mace’s point of view, it meant that no matter what happened, there was a force – not necessarily the Force, but close enough – binding other species together. Every human, every Twi’lek, every Quarren, every Hutt, every creature in existence was bound by civilization. By the Republic. It set rules and a foundation, which, if anything, was necessary to protect. Without it, the galaxy would spiral into misery, and into chaos, and Mace knew that it was the last thing that any of them wanted.

And more than that, it was the Republic’s ideals. Because even if the Senators had become corrupt, even if those leading had become corrupt, the ideals of the Republic, the people of the Republic – they were more than worth fighting for. It was enough to get Mace through the worst of the Clone Wars, through Matthew Travis’ accusations mostly made for the sake of getting ratings, and considering the state of the Clone Wars, Mace could not help but wonder if the reason that they were tuning into his Holonet station was that they had lost faith in the Jedi, saw Travis as a savior of sorts –

And now, to compound things, the Republic had been dead all along. Controlled by the Sith. A Sith Lord masquerading as the Supreme Chancellor, manipulating events into motion like the most skilled dejarik player in the galaxy. And the Jedi had no choice but to take him down.

Even the old saying that there was always a choice, always possibilities, seemed to fail them at this moment. Because after all...what choice did they have now?

“Master Windu?” Agen Kolar spoke. “Are you well?”

“Very much so,” Mace said. “I am merely...shaken at the idea of what I must do.” If anything, it felt like a smaller scale version – and yet at the same time, a larger scale version – of fighting Depa after she had gone mad in that cursed jungle. He could not say that he was attached to Chancellor Palpatine the same way he was attached to Depa, but he had once admired the man. Even when he had been seemingly slipping into madness, Mace had tried to hold onto whatever hope he still had, whatever faith he had in the man, because otherwise, the alternative, the truth, would be too terrible.

And it was there, he supposed, where he had failed.

The Jedi were not supposed to have attachments. Now, Mace knew why. Because attachment could get in the way of doing one’s duty, and for Jedi, those who were supposed to be keepers of the peace, that was the last thing they could ever afford.

“I believe we all are,” Agen Kolar said. “But we have to do it.”

“Of course we do,” Saesee Tiin said. “For the greater good of the Republic. It is the right thing to do, wouldn’t you say, Master Windu?"

Silence.

“Yes,” Mace said. “I...” He stopped himself from saying “suppose”; there was no “suppose”, after all, when it came to the Force. “I quite agree.”

He didn’t say the rest, but for Saesee Tiin, he didn’t have to hear Mace say it to know how he felt. It wasn’t just the matter of his exceptional telepathic skills, but also the fact that in a way, Tiin had also lost someone he had admired. While Quinlan Vos and Saesee Tiin were closer than Mace Windu and Palpatine, the loss was still the same. A loss that had carved conflict through the spirit of the man left behind as keenly as any lightsaber.

And it was there that Mace Windu knew that he had to arrest the Chancellor. This war had to end. Sidious’ manipulations had to end.

He could only hope that it would not come to blows.

“We are with you, Mace,” Tiin said, “No matter what it takes.”

“I know,” Mace said. “Let us go.”

***

It was in the Council chambers that Obi-Wan Kenobi had no choice but to simply sit and wait. He hated this already, having to stay behind instead of go and find the Supreme Chancellor, to help Mace – after all, Master Windu was one of his dearest friends, next to Master Yoda. If anything, he doubted there was anyone in the Order that he wouldn’t somehow count as a friend. And now...now he had to sit here while they most likely went off on a suicide mission. Padmè...Padmè was also off on a suicide mission, and a fruitless one, to make it worse. Because even if she killed Dooku and Grievous, it wouldn’t matter, would it? Because they were all being manipulated in the end.

And Sabe...

Obi-Wan could still remember his visions of the hooded man, of Sabe dying, of Sidious’ laughter, and so much more. He could still remember Ahsoka dying, and Padmè’s reaction – Sidious had set that up too. The matter of the clone army, and the Battle of Geonosis, and so many other things – Sidious had set that up too. All of their efforts, for nothing.

And Sabe...

Almost on instinct, he reached out to her across Coruscant, where she was, back at home, no doubt exhausted after yet another meeting with the other Senators. He could already feel her, exhausted, sad, only to rise, almost in curiosity.

And it was then that he heard her. It was almost as if for a moment, he  _was_  her – part of her – the words she spoke, the air she breathed, and so much more. It was part of the Force, it was part of that which surrounded them. It was more than who they were, it was what the galaxy was as well.

And she spoke, if only to reassure him.  _“No matter what happens, Obi-Wan, I will be all right. You will be all right. I promise you.”_

_“No, I promise you.”_

_“You don’t need to promise me anything,”_ Sabe said,  _“You’ve promised me enough. You’ve taken care of so many people. Now...now, at the very least, I can do the same for you.”_

And it was there that Obi-Wan, finally, felt the first remnants of tears escaping. He had tried vainly to hold them back, and yet here they came, flowing so freely. Tears for Ahsoka, for Mace, for the Republic, for Sabe, for everything yet to be lost. For the coming darkness, consuming almost everything that they held dear. For the unfairness of it all, that so many good Jedi had to die this day, that so many good men and women had died during the Clone Wars, some of which the Jedi had barely cared about. He wept all over again, and though it hurt, and though he was exhausted, it wasn’t as if he could stop it. No amounts of applying the Jedi Code, no amounts of reciting the Jedi Code could really, honestly, make it stop.

He could feel Sabe’s own tears as well, and for a moment, it seemed almost as if she were in the same room as him. As if they were comforting one another in the same room, even though he was confined to the Council chamber, and she to the Coruscant apartment. At least in a way.

Eventually, though it seemed like such a long time, the tears abated, and Sabe spoke. _Obi-Wan, I am coming to get you._

 _I know._ Sabe was overwhelmingly loyal to him, he mused, just as much as she was to the Republic. Sometimes he could still be surprised by her.  _But first I have to do something. Quickly._

_What exactly?_

_End the war._

_But Padmè’s already on Mustafar doing just that –_

_I don’t necessarily mean there, Sabe. I mean...on Coruscant. Master Windu...he’s going to kill the Chancellor._ He didn’t tell her about the idea of the Chancellor possibly stopping the corruption in the Republic, about making things right. He could only pray that he could conceal it from her, because if anything else, he doubted he could live with the knowledge that he had broken her heart.

_But he wouldn’t do that._

_I know. But if anything, I think the war’s making monsters of us all. And I doubt Mace is any exception._

_If there’s any trouble, I’ll come and get you._

Obi-Wan swallowed.  _Thank you, Sabe._

Sabe laughed.  _You don’t necessarily need to thank me. It’s the best I can do._ She faltered.  _For the three of us. And once we end this war, we go back to Naboo and raise our child. What do you think?_

There was something in Obi-Wan’s mind that prickled even now, telling him that if anything else, it wouldn’t be that simple. And yet at the same time, he wanted to believe so badly that this would be true.

 _Yes_ , he said,  _Yes, that would be nice._


	22. Chapter Twenty Two: The Board Is Set

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Obi-Wan heads over to the Chancellor's office to stop Mace Windu, and Padme and Artoo duel Dooku and Grievous for the last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.
> 
> Author's Notes: Yes, that is a LORD OF THE RINGS reference in that chapter title. *Is a bit of a geek. XD*

It was much later in terms of heading towards the hangar bay that he came across Master Shaak Ti. The Togruta Jedi Master turned to look towards him if only with what seemed like confusion. “Master Kenobi,” she said, “Where are you going?”

“I have to get to Five Hundred Republica.”

“Master Windu and the others are more than capable. I wouldn’t fear.”

“It’s not Master Windu’s safety I fear for,” Obi-Wan said, “Not the physical kind, at least.”

Master Ti merely raised an eyebrow, but Obi-Wan could see so much in the Togruta Jedi Master’s face. Probably too much. “You believe that Master Windu may...” She trailed off, almost as if thinking about it was, to say the least, unthinkable.

“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan said, “But I am worried. I...I think we all know how devoted he is to the Republic. I fear that Sidious may be preying on it if only to manipulate him further. To manipulate us further.”

“Then you should perhaps stay behind,” Master Ti said. “If Sidious is as skilled in the art of manipulation as you claim...who is to say that you won’t fall as well?”

Even that statement was enough to hurt. Obi-Wan could still remember his visions, about the hooded man, about Sidious and Sabe and Padmè and so much more, and he could not help but wonder if this trap was as much for him as it was for Windu.

“I know,” Obi-Wan said, “But if I can find a way to reverse the trap...I will.”

“You don’t know that,” Master Ti said, “I doubt even I can see the fate of the Jedi Order, in this moment. Or Master Windu.”

“I know. But it is the least I can do.” A pause. “Can you give me the codes?”

“Of course.”

It was long after Master Ti had given him the codes to unlock the appropriate speeder to get to Five Hundred Republica that she looked at him. “Master Kenobi, are you sure you will return alive?”

“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan said, “But if anything goes wrong, put the Jedi Temple on lockdown immediately. It’s the best we can all do.”

Master Ti nodded.

“May the Force be with you, Master Ti.” It was the least Obi-Wan could say in this moment, because something in him wondered if he would ever see the Togruta Jedi Master again. The Jedi Master that had taught him so much, in a way. The Jedi Master that, besides Mace, Yoda and Qui Gon, he had looked up to tremendously.

Travis was wrong about what he had said about the Order. More than wrong. Because for all the Order’s faults, they were a fine group, a group of wonderful men and women ready to give their lives for the Republic. And they were worth fighting for.

Travis knew nothing about the Order. And that was why he failed.

Master Ti didn’t smile, but there was a sort of softening in her eyes. “May the Force be with you, Master Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan smiled, before turning back to the controls of the speeder and activating them. And he headed off towards Five Hundred Republica, and towards either certain victory, or certain doom.

Something told him that it would be the latter.

Obi-Wan shook his head, almost as if to clear that thought.

Fear was the path to the Dark Side. And more than that, it would lead to the Dark Side faster than any wrong decision ever would. He could not afford to give into fear. He  _would_ not give into fear.

***

Padmè had to remind herself that there was nothing to fear, even facing Grievous and Dooku. In truth, she knew that there was plenty to fear, if only because she was now at the very end of Mustafar, fighting amongst raging lava, fighting against two of the most prolific Jedi killers and the most feared of the Separatist leaders at the same time. And yet at the same time, she could not help but feel afraid. If anything, she had a feeling that whatever happened, she would not return from this alive.

At least, perhaps not the same as before.

She had dreamed about facing Grievous and Dooku before. She could not say that the outcomes of her dreams were pleasant. Then again, she doubted that any of the outcomes of her dreams were truly pleasant.

Still, she had to be strong. She was a Jedi, after all. She could not afford to give into fear.

“General Grievous, Count Dooku,” she said, slowly. “I will not ask you again. I don’t wish to go through with this. But I will have to tell you once again: you can choose to come with me back to Coruscant, or I’ll have to take drastic action.”

Silence.

“I am sorry, Knight Naberrie,” Dooku said, “But I believe that we may have to decline your offer.”

 _I should have supposed that would happen._ “Then what happens next is your own doing,” Padmè said. She turned to look at Artoo. “Ready, Artoo?”

The astromech beeped.

Padmè turned to look at Grievous and Dooku. “Let us begin then.”

The duel between Grievous, her, Dooku and Artoo was, if anything, more than complicated. A lot of leaping from platform to platform, if only to avoid being skewered. If anything, Padmè knew that being skewered was the last thing she would want. Artoo, of course, had been modified by Padmè over the years in order to keep flying. Flying was definitely good, Padmè thought. Especially when one was in a situation like this, where thinking on one’s feet was necessary.

Even Grievous, though, couldn’t keep up forever. In between blasts from Artoo’s flamethrower and so forth, he seemed to be staggering now. Staggering and almost vulnerable. Padmè froze for a moment, unable to tear herself away. Then she spoke. “General Grievous,” she said, “You can stop. Just come with me and we can end this.”

“No. Never.”

Padmè sighed. “I’m sorry,” she said, and the duel resumed.

In between dodging Dooku’s slices and dices and so much more, Padmè aimed if only to incapacitate Grievous – she had no desire to kill. There had been enough killing over the course of this entire war. The same with Dooku. And yet at the same time, she hadn’t expected, in a way, to hit the precise spot in his armor where Mace Windu had Force Crushed him before.

The Kaleesh general’s rage was almost instantaneous. He sprung upon her, but Padmè rolled out of the way in time, before managing to slice through his knees. He fell to the ground now.

It was only then that Padmè was distracted by Dooku springing towards her. Even now, fighting him, Padmè could still remember Geonosis all too well. Far too well. Dueling him. Even thinking about it, thinking about the lives of the Republic citizens at stake, was enough to scare her. And thus she kept fighting – any semblance of control was a joke at this point. There were too many lives at stake.

And yet she kept trying to tell herself the same thing, again and again.  _There is no emotion, there is peace._

Slammed to the ground by a Force Wave from Dooku – it was only reaching through the Force just in time that she didn’t end up careening into the lava. She got up now, before rejoining the duel, rejoining the same dance they were close to perfecting. Silver. Red. Silver. Red. Silver. Red. The same dance, if only a variation on it, that the Jedi and the Sith had been perfecting if only for years and years. It wasn’t just what they did, some would have said. It was who they were.

And yet at the same time, Padmè couldn’t help but wonder if there was a way to save Dooku and Grievous both. To just avert more needless deaths, just this once...

It was then that Dooku’s lightsaber snagged with her own once again. The two almost tangled lightsabers struggled before, finally, Padmè’s slipped –

\-- and cut off Dooku’s left hand.

Dooku’s lightsaber soared into her hand. Padmè stood over Dooku, looking at him, looking at the man who was responsible for so much suffering. Who had tried to kill Sabe. Who had assisted in Ahsoka Tano’s death. Who had done so many terrible things that she doubted that she could count them. And yet at the same time, she couldn’t just kill him. If she killed him, would she be any better than him?

 _Don’t be absurd,_ a part of her said.  _He’s killed multiple innocent people._

 _And would I be any better if I killed him_?

Dooku looked up at her now, completely calm. “Go on, Knight Naberrie,” he said, “Kill me. If you must. It’s only right.”

Padmè’s hands trembled. Then, slowly, she deactivated both lightsabers. “Dooku,” she said, “Come with me. It doesn’t have to end like this. You can make amends.”

Silence.

Then Dooku shook his head. “I am sorry, Knight Naberrie,” he said, “But I am afraid that it’s not over.”

***

The dejarik board was already set.

The pieces were already moving.

Sidious had missed the feeling of a lightsaber in his hand. At least, he had missed the idea of killing Jedi. Manipulation was all well and good, but the thrill of Jedi falling to his blade, the thrill of those corrupt, self righteous, insufferable creatures dying...that was perhaps the best reward of all. Giving them the deaths they so deserved. They had brought nothing but harm to the galaxy; the fact that he had managed to sit through their self righteous, hypocritical drivel, watching the Clone Wars he had set up reveal them as the rotten creatures they truly were...one could say that he deserved the Republic Cross of Glory if only for that.

At least now he could get the chance to kill them, and then incriminate them, expose them as the monsters they truly were. It was only right, after all.

He wouldn’t exactly call it framing. If anything else, he would have called it a test of character. A test that they were almost certainly going to lose.

The Jedi entered. Mace Windu was at the front, of course, Saesee Tiin, Agen Kolar, and Kit Fisto behind him. The recording device was in place. Master Windu must have assumed that he couldn’t take Sidious himself on his own – quite pitiful, really. Sidious had expected better from one of the most accomplished duelists of all time – because he had brought backup, all the better to incriminate them when evidence was placed before the Senate. In a way, Sidious mused, he didn’t have to set up this “secret test of character” for them. They were all but doing his job for him.

Still, he supposed the best he could do was keep running with his role, as he usually did. Play it to the hilt. And when the Senate had no choice but to put his new form of government into place, to outlaw the Jedi, to establish Sith rule over the galaxy, one could say his task was done. Plagueis’ work would be done. The next step would, naturally, to be enforcing order in the galaxy, and hunting down all traitors to that order. But then again, Sidious doubted that would be difficult.

And besides, it was his duty, after all.

“Why Master Windu,” Sidious said, “What a pleasant surprise.”

***

Now that the metaphorical dust had settled, Padmè could take a look at Dooku’s prone, wounded form on the ground. She knelt next to him, suddenly very exhausted, and very tired, and very worn. She had expected taking Dooku and Grievous into custody. She had expected, at least, to be happy that, in a sense, the Clone Wars had come to an end. And yet even here, kneeling next to Dooku, she felt none of that. If anything, she felt empty. Worse than empty – she never wanted it to end this way. And yet here it had happened. Dooku was dying.

“Dooku,” she said, “It’s all right. Just...come back to Coruscant with me. I can save you. You and the General both.”

“I’m afraid you can’t. Not this time, at least. We have had the best of times, so to speak, but like all good things, it has to end. Simply know this, Knight Naberrie – the Clone Wars are far from over.”

Padmè bit her lip. “You kept saying that the Sith Lord Darth Sidious is controlling the Senate. We’ve been searching everywhere, but with no luck. Can you...can you tell me who he is?”

“I’m afraid that you already know.”

“Knowing is one thing. Actually knowing is another. Please,” Padmè said, “Tell me. Just for the Republic’s sake. It can be your final act of redemption. Just...trust me, Count.”

“Redemption? You believe that I want that?”

“Perhaps not necessarily,” Padmè said, “But at least to help the Republic. You only wanted to help the Republic, didn’t you?”  
  
A pause.

“I suppose I did. Saving a Republic that wasn’t worth saving...a foolish endeavor of me.”

“Don’t say that. The Republic is still worth saving. Even if the infrastructure is crumbling, its ideals, its people...” Padmè broke off, if only for a moment. “They’re still worth fighting for, Count. Aren’t they?”

“Optimistic as ever. But yes, I suppose.”

A pause.

“The identity of the Sith Lord is something you may need to discover on your own, Knight Naberrie,” Dooku said. “After all, it’s been under your nose the entire time. You simply didn’t want to acknowledge it because the truth was too terrible.”

“You’re not being specific.”  
  
“It’s for a reason. But should you get back to Master Yoda...tell him this.” Dooku’s breath seemed to hitch now, and the pain he was in was more obvious. “Tell him...that Order 66...has begun.”

Padmè bit her lip. “I will, Count. I will.”

It was the least she could do.

Even later, long after she had finished setting up a burial mound for Grievous and Dooku’s bodies, Padmè could only sit beside Artoo, thinking.  _Order 66..._

It was best to at least inform Master Yoda, at the very least. It was in this moment that she then typed the message to Master Yoda.

MASTER YODA,

I HAVE DEFEATED COUNT DOOKU AND GENERAL GRIEVOUS. DOOKU WANTED ME TO TELL YOU SOMETHING BEFORE HE DIED. ORDER 66 HAS BEGUN. WHATEVER IT MEANS, WE SHOULD BE READY.

MAY THE FORCE BE WITH YOU.

KNIGHT PADMÈ NABERRIE.

Padmè clicked the necessary button to send the message before leaning against the rock formations and sighing. Perhaps she had failed to save Dooku and Grievous both, but at the very least, she could make some degree of amends for it if only to help save the Republic. Dooku wasn’t out for power, after all; he was out to save the Republic he so adored.

Padmè at least could let him die happy with the thought of Sidious being defeated. And better – try and stop Sidious, whoever he was. She didn’t know who Sidious was – and if the truth was so terrible, who would Sidious be to make that the case? – but at least she could honor Dooku’s last request.

It was only right, after all. 


	23. Chapter Twenty Three: Do We Have The Right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Obi-Wan arrives in time during Sidious and Mace's duel, and things start to get worse from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Obi-Wan Kenobi supposed that he should have been thankful that he managed to arrive when he did. And yet at the same time, he couldn’t help but wonder if he could have arrived sooner. Because none of this...none of this was anything that he had any sort of desire to see. Saesee Tiin, slaughtered, Kit Fisto, slaughtered, Agen Kolar, slaughtered. Agen Kolar, with a sort of knowing smile on his face, and Kit Fisto wearing a similar smile. And Saesee Tiin...even in death, it seemed that his face was not at peace, or at rest. It seemed as if he had died in great agony and great pain.

And near the window, Sidious and Mace were dueling.

Obi-Wan turned to look at them, look at the jets of lightning that Sidious was spewing towards Palpatine. His face seemed to be melting even as Obi-Wan watched – his white hair was beginning to char, and his skin...what was happening to his skin?

And Mace Windu, holding back the lightning with his lightsaber as best he could, but it seemed that even he couldn’t hold it back forever.

Obi-Wan froze, only able to watch even as these two people he knew dueled. The Chancellor, whom he had come to slightly respect over the course of the Clone Wars, and Mace Windu, one of his dearest friends. But even if it wasn’t the case, it wouldn’t have really mattered. Because it wasn’t just concentration that was showing on Mace’s face.

It was hatred. Sheer unadulterated hatred – hatred that Obi-Wan had felt. Hatred that had made him want to, if only slightly, shoot every Separatist ship out of the sky if need be if only to avenge Ahsoka’s death – it had only taken Padmè to hold him back and remind him what it meant to be a Jedi. He supposed that was at least one part where the “no attachment” policy that the Jedi had upheld for so long – that Obi-Wan himself would have liked to have thought he had upheld for so long – was rendered almost useless at least in this instant. Because sometimes you needed attachment. At least, sometimes you needed someone to stop you.

And that...that was more valuable than anything else.

Palpatine – no, Obi-Wan corrected himself, Sidious.  _As if it’s going to make it easier for you to stand back and let Mace kill him,_  a part of him (which sounded almost like Padmè, he thought) said – turned to look at Obi-Wan. “Master Kenobi,” he said, and it seemed that Sidious, formerly Chancellor Palpatine, had lost his composure. “Thank goodness you’re here. The Jedi are taking over!”

If one had said that to Obi-Wan long ago, he would have laughed in their faces. After all, the Jedi were guardians of the peace and had no intention of taking over. He would have brushed it off as the behavior of rabid Jedi hating fanatics and thought of it no more than one of the Separatists insisting that despite everything else, they were in the right one hundred percent.

Except at the same time, what Mace was doing...

Obi-Wan had already seen Mace Windu teeter on the edge during the war. Not in the use of Vaapaad as some of the more absolutist Jedi Masters would have liked to think – Master Windu had explicitly said once to Obi-Wan that he used Vaapaad if only as a means of dealing with his darkness, channeling it into a weapon of the light – but in his other decisions. The matter of Barriss Offee was one thing. And now...now, there was Sidious.

“Don’t listen to him, Obi-Wan,” Mace managed to gasp out. “He’s trying to trick you. He’s trying to get you to...join his side.” Mace’s voice seemed to become ragged in that moment, almost as if he couldn’t hold off the onslaught of Sidious’ lightning forever.

“He’s lying! He’s the traitor, Master Kenobi; you must believe me.”

“ _He_  is the traitor!”

It was something that would have looked almost ludicrous to a casual onlooker, and yet at the same time, Obi-Wan could not help but feel horrified. He glanced from Mace to Sidious – something in him knew that he had to act, had to do something, and yet at the same time, horribly enough, he was almost frozen in his fear.

What was he doing? How could he be fearful at a time like this?

Yet he was not fearful of his own safety. If anything, he feared for Mace’s soul. For Mace’s spirit. To think of this good, wonderful man falling to the Dark Side was almost too much to bear.

“I can’t – hold out much longer.” Sidious seemed to go weak now, and to Obi-Wan’s eyes he looked not like the powerful Sith Lord from before, but a feeble, frightened old man. He wanted to step forward and help Sidious, and yet there was something in the back of his mind that suggested that Sidious was mostly manipulating him, and if he helped Sidious, he would cause more harm than good. Not to himself personally, but to Mace.

And that...that Obi-Wan could not allow.

“I...please, don’t kill me, Master Jedi.” Sidious again. Obi-Wan doubted that he had ever seen Lord Sidious more exhausted.

Mace, on the other hand, was pure fury. “Save your twisted words,  _my Lord_. The oppression of the Sith will never come again. You have lost.”

“Perhaps I have.” Sidious sounded almost pensive now. “Forgive me, Master Jedi...I merely wanted the best for the Republic. For the galaxy.”

“And look where it’s got you.” Obi-Wan doubted he had ever heard Mace Windu sound so tired. “You’ve been defeated the way the Sith always are – by your own fear.” He raised his lightsaber now. “I’m sorry.”

“Wait!”

The word burst out of Obi-Wan before he could stop himself.

Mace turned to look at Obi-Wan, almost in shock.

Obi-Wan supposed that it was the best time to start talking. It was the best way that it would resolve any sort of situation. “Mace, please, don’t kill him.”

“I have to do it.” Mace was all grim resolution now.

Obi-Wan supposed that now that he had started talking, it was best to keep talking. “It isn’t the Jedi way.”

“Then what else is there?”

“Take him to the Senate and let him stand trial.”

“A trial would be a joke. He has control over the Senate and the courts. He’s too dangerous to let live.”

“Then who are we?” It was in that moment that Obi-Wan was suddenly very weary, very frustrated, even angry, and very, very tired. He doubted he had ever felt this way before and yet here it was, pummeling him like a series of tidal waves. It was the best he could do to even attempt to keep his composure. “Are we no more than vigilantes, choosing who lives and who dies? That’s not who we are, Master Windu! Perhaps that was who our predecessors believed themselves to be, but surely we have come further than this. Much further. We’re not the people who attempt to strip the Force from those we deem unnatural anymore, nor...nor do we brainwash and memory wipe for our own gain. And yet in ways, we’ve gotten worse. Far worse. Shoving our way into the minds of others, interrogating, manipulating – are we any better than the man who lies broken at your feet?”

“How dare you – ’’

“I dare plenty, Master Windu.” A new anger was already filling Obi-Wan – it was an anger that he didn’t want to feel. It wasn’t even that it was against the Jedi Code or anything else, but the fact that he was feeling angry towards Mace, of all people. It was almost like feeling angry towards Master Yoda; it didn’t feel right. He didn’t want to feel angry. And yet here he was, fury bubbling through his body as powerful as the lava of Mustafar. And yet it felt so numb. So cold. “And I promise you – I am  _not_  letting you become the man that you so despise.”

Silence.

A flicker of...something passed through Mace Windu’s eyes. Then, “I’m sorry, Obi-Wan. But I have no other choice.”

“Then I suppose that you won’t blame me for trying to stop you.”

“I assume not.”

It was even dueling at the edge of the window that Obi-Wan could already feel his composure beginning to waver. It was dueling towards the edge of it that he tried to not hit Mace Windu, and yet at the same time, against Mace, his movements, his faint, feeble attempts to simply and honestly not hit the man that he had once looked up to, got more erratic. And it was there that, trying to meet every Vaapad blow, blow for blow, that Obi-Wan realized, almost, that he was going too far.

Because he couldn’t do it. And yet at the same time...who was going to save Mace from himself?

It was an awful line of thinking. And yet at the same time, was there any other choice?

Did they have the right?

_Do we have the right?_

_Do we –_

_Do we –_

It was struggling at the edge of the window that, finally, Obi-Wan found himself doing the thing he had never thought in a lifetime he would do: corner Mace over the seemingly boundless drop of Coruscant. And yet here he was.

“Master Windu, I’m sorry. I am so sorry. Just...” Obi-Wan swallowed. “Surrender and we can end this.”

Beat.

“If it were that simple, it would be easier for all of us. But I’m afraid that it’s not the case.” The solemnity in Mace’s eyes almost hurt. “Forgive me, Obi-Wan.”

Even as the Jedi Master once again got to his feet, badly wounded, driven only by determination in terms of what truly kept him going, Obi-Wan knew that in a way, Mace wasn’t the one who had to be forgiven.

Obi-Wan was.

Because in a way, Obi-Wan was doing what he never thought he would do.

Betray the Jedi. Betray a friend.

He had once been told that if the higher duties of the Force had to be achieved through sacrifice of a friend, one had to do it, no matter the personal cost. And he had slowly accepted it, at least in a way. And yet at the same time, he couldn’t do it, in this moment.

He couldn’t –

It was then that he noticed Sidious rising, his cloak billowing, his arms stretched out almost like claws.

And it was there that Obi-Wan narrowly managed to dodge Sidious’ lightning. But Mace...Mace was blasted out the window towards the cityscape. And it was there that Obi-Wan could only watch even as one of his dearest friends fell. Even using the Force – he doubted that even the Force could slow a fall such as that one. Stars knows that Ahsoka had tried if only to save Steela from falling during the liberation of Onderon, where she had sacrificed herself if only to save King Dendup. And yet at the same time, he wished that he could.

And here he knelt, near the broken window, wishing for all intents and purposes that flow walking was possible, if only to undo all the days that he had failed like this. 

 


	24. Chapter Twenty Four: Terminus Est

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Obi-Wan Kenobi pledges himself to Darth Sidious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own shit. 
> 
> Author's Notes: So, hope you like this chapter. Also, on a bit of a sidenote, after running across a few essays on the topic, I'm worried about some of Obi-Wan's grief over Ahsoka coming off as "manpain". Maybe I'm just worrying a bit too much, but...I dunno. I was mostly wondering. 
> 
> Then again, I'm mostly a bit worried about having a lot of "manpain" (and general pain) in my stories. At least I want to know how to avoid it.

If one was to tell Obi-Wan that at one point he would be kneeling near a broken window long after he had contributed to the death of one of his dearest friends, he doubted he would have believed them. He doubted that he would have believed that he was responsible for Master Windu’s death either. And yet at the same time, he couldn’t deny what he had done. He had done this. He had killed Mace Windu. Or at least, he had helped. He knew that technically, Sidious had dealt the killing blow, and yet at the same time, he doubted that it made it easier. If anything, it made it worse.

He stood and turned to look at Darth Sidious. The Sith Lord...he doubted that he had ever seen a Sith Lord like that before. He doubted that he had seen the Chancellor like this before either – then again, he supposed, he hadn’t seen the Chancellor’s true face. A melted creature, his hair almost completely burnt off, and almost reptilian eyes...

Reptilian eyes that he had seen in his dreams multiple times.

Was this the end? Was this how it was going to end? Was this how Sabe was going to die? Was this how everything would turn out?

Was this –

“Chancellor,” he said, and he noticed that somehow, his words sounded almost disconnected from himself. Almost numb, somehow. “What have I done?”

“What you could. Master Windu was too dangerous to let live.”

“Too dangerous? Too dangerous? He was doing what he could.” Obi-Wan doubted that he had ever felt more angry than he did in this moment. This frustrated. Not just angry at Sidious, but angry at himself for being so damnably stupid and thinking that he could save Mace Windu from himself. Thinking that he could save Mace Windu by essentially killing him. And somehow...somehow he had only made things worse.

It was enough to make him wonder how far he had fallen, as well as the Jedi. They had all fallen far in some ways, and yet at the same time, Obi-Wan doubted he had fallen further than this moment. Effectively betraying the Republic if only to save it. What was he thinking?

“I have no doubt that he was,” Sidious said, in such a slimy tone that Obi-Wan could practically  _feel_  the oil slick it left, “But at the same time...he was about to uproot democracy as we knew it. Is it truly any wonder that we had no choice?”

 _We..._  Speaking almost as if they had been working together, at least in a way.

Obi-Wan swallowed. “There could have been another way,” he said. “After all...there always is.”

“Sometimes,” Sidious said, and for a moment, Obi-Wan could swear that he sounded like the amiable Chancellor that he had known far too well, “There isn’t. Sometimes you must do what you can, no matter what the costs. And you did that. You did your duty, Master Kenobi...nothing more.”

Obi-Wan supposed that he was right, at least in a sense. He couldn’t say that he liked it, and yet at the same time...

It made sense. In a twisted way, at least. It was as if he had been placed in an upside down world, an upside down universe where sense made none, and nonsense made sense.

“I suppose I am. Chancellor...my Lord...” Obi-Wan doubted that he could really call Sidious “Chancellor” anymore. Not after what he had just seen. Chancellor Palpatine as he had known him was dead. “Am I going mad?”

“Madness is relative. A point of view. Just as much as good and evil. What could strike you as mad could strike another as perfectly sensible. It’s not as black and white as you believe.”

Obi-Wan had to suppress a sigh. He supposed that the Chancellor was right, but at the same time, there was something in him that doubted that he could believe it. “And they say that a Sith deals in absolutes...”  
  
“Another Jedi platitude. No doubt to find a way to separate themselves from the Sith, when in truth, there is no real difference between the Jedi and the Sith. The Sith merely take the initiative to do what is right. The Jedi are no more than soldiers following commands.”

“And you learned all this through the Clone Wars?”

“Yes. One could suppose that, from a certain point of view, I was testing the Republic and the Jedi. I can’t say that you proved me wrong.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, suddenly overcome with memories. Memories of Ahsoka, of Barriss Offee and Adi Gallia and so many others...people who had been injured or killed if only...to make a point? Somehow, it was hard to take. Especially Ahsoka.

“You want justice, don’t you?” Sidious’ voice was soft, almost sympathetic. “Justice for Padawan Tano?”

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, looked at Sidious. “And what makes you think I’ll join your side? You killed her.”

“Her death was wrong,” Sidious said. “If you join me...perhaps we could prevent more deaths such as hers from happening again.”

Obi-Wan supposed that it could work. And yet at the same time...

“I came to save your life,” he said, “Not betray my friends.”

“Friends? The Jedi don’t seem to believe in the concept of friendship, at least. Attachment, at least, is considered unnecessary. What happens to these friends when they die? They encourage you to let them go. To accept their deaths as if they mean nothing to you. The Jedi is always alone, is he not?”

Obi-Wan supposed that he was right. At least in a sense.

“Just think about it, Master Kenobi. What have you wanted more than anything?” Sidious’ eyes bored into his, searching, insistent, almost predatory. “Don’t think about what the Council told you to want. Think about what you want. More than anything.”

In truth, Obi-Wan wanted so many things. Qui Gon back. Ahsoka back. Stability. Freedom. Order. Sabe to be safe. Their children to be safe. And so much more.

Obi-Wan sighed. “I want...stability. Order. Something that the Jedi couldn’t always put into place.” He could still remember all those moments when he had disapproved of Qui Gon picking up what he joked were “pathetic life forms”. Jar Jar, for example. He could still remember all those people he wanted to help that he had discouraged Padmè from helping if only for the sake of the mission they were on.

Perhaps in a way, joining the Sith could help him make amends.

“Perhaps at least,” he said, “I can find someone who can make that possible.”

Sidious smiled, and for a moment, Obi-Wan swore that he could see traces of the Chancellor in that smile. Perhaps, in a way, they weren’t that different after all. Not as different as he wanted them to be, at least.

Perhaps, at least in a sense, they were the same. There were finally some shades of gray, when you finally saw them.

And it was in this moment that he knelt before Darth Sidious and swore his life to the Sith. It was there that Sidious gave him the name that meant him.

Darth Terminus.

The destroyer of planets, the protector of planets. He supposed that it was something he had been steadily building up throughout the war.

At the very least, it was prophetic, really.

Even rising, he could already feel different. Too different, really. He wasn’t the soldier waiting for commands that he was when he first entered the Chancellor’s office. There was something frightening about it, and yet at the same time, something bizarrely liberating. He wasn’t the Council’s little errand boy anymore.

He was his own man.

And in a way, there was something in him that was frightened. And yet at the same time, there was something in him that found it bizarrely, terribly, horribly...wonderful.

Sidious drew his hood back over his face. The newly christened Darth Terminus supposed that it was when he gave the inevitable transmissions. After all, he had to keep his face covered. No one could really know that he was the Chancellor. At least, not yet.

And even long after that, he still had to keep some degree of his origins masked. After all...

“What is it that we do now, my Lord?” Terminus spoke.

“We must find a way to control the Jedi. Otherwise, it will be civil war without end.”

“Surely there are other ways, my Lord,” Terminus said. “We could go and forge a truce between the Jedi and the Sith. After all, we’ve been at war for too long. Surely it is time that we negotiated peace?”

Silence.

“The negotiator as ever,” Sidious said, in a tone that was almost scornful. “You know that we cannot do that. The Jedi would never want peace. They were all too willing to kill me when they found out who I was, after all.”

Terminus supposed that he was right.

“We must find a way to quell the uprising,” Sidious said. “Go to the Jedi Temple and kill them.”

Terminus could only swallow. The best he could do, at least, was tell Sabe to stay inside the apartment. He couldn’t risk her getting hurt. And find a way to at least minimalize the casualties. Find a way to negotiate with them and prove Sidious wrong. It was the best he could do. For the good of the galaxy.

“And then what?” Terminus said, trying his best to at least keep his face expressionless. Attentive, even.

“And then you must go to the Sullust system,” Sidious said, “And wipe out Viceroy Nute Gunray and his followers.”

That, Terminus supposed, he could at least understand. After all, though he didn’t want it to come to blows (at least, not entirely. Something in him still screamed for justice, for everything Gunray had done), if he had to, he would stop Gunray and the others before they wreaked more havoc on the galaxy.

It was only right, after all.

“What of the other Jedi?” Terminus, deep down, could only hope that some of them managed to escape. The idea of them dying....the idea was almost too much.

“Leave them to me,” Sidious said. “Now, go, Lord Terminus – go and dispense justice to the galaxy.”

“I will, my Lord.”  
  
Terminus bowed and left. It was outside that he bumped into Sabe. There was something relieving, at least, about seeing her again, and yet at the same time, there was something worrying.

“Sabe,” he said, “What are you doing here?”  
  
Sabe raised an eyebrow. “I told you that I would come and get you,” she said, “So I did.”

“I should have known that.”

Sabe laughed, if only softly. Then she grew more serious. “What happened? They said that there was a fight – ’’

“Master Windu tried to assassinate the Chancellor.”

“He would never do that!”

“I’m sorry, Sabe,” Terminus said, “But he did.” Gentler now, “I saw it with my own eyes.”

Sabe bit her lip now, seeming pensive.

“Sabe,” Terminus said, “I’m really sorry that I have to do this, but you might have to stay inside the apartment. There’s chaos breaking out throughout the Republic.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Sabe said, “But I’m not leaving you.”

Terminus had to smile, at least a bit – he could already feel the tears beginning to prick his eyes. “I will come back, Sabe,” he said, “I promise.”

He drew her close now, and she buried her face in his shoulder, almost as if taking in whatever she could of him, as if to steady her through the trials ahead. He took in everything of her as well – the scent of her hair, the feel of her body against his, the color of her eyes, those gentle, sweet, yet steady and strong eyes. He had always admired her strength and stability – it was one of many reasons that he loved her. How brave and loyal and kind she was. “I love you,” he said, “I promise, I won’t be long.”

“I didn’t think so,” Sabe said, grinning, and a hint of her old humor – another one of the reasons he loved her – sprang into her eyes. “Just don’t take too long, all right? I will be waiting.”

“I won’t,” Terminus said.

And yet even long after he had dropped her off at the apartment, even long after he had landed at the Temple, along with the clone troopers he would inevitably command, Terminus couldn’t help but feel a prickling of guilt. Because he had a feeling already that it would take a long while. And he had a feeling, even in this moment, as if this would be the last time he would ever see Sabe again.

Perhaps it was irrational. Of course he would see her again.

And yet even now, deep down, Darth Terminus, formerly Obi-Wan Kenobi, could not help somehow but worry. 


	25. Chapter Twenty Five: Execute Order 66

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which shit gets real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. 
> 
> Author's Notes: First, I'm going to say this is probably the most ironic Christmas update ever. Second off, I hope everybody had a very merry Christmas! Mine went okay, and on another note, my family might be getting together to watch DOCTOR WHO either this evening or tomorrow evening. To quote a certain Time Lord, "Fantastic!"

Even long after sending the message to Master Yoda and getting back to Commander Cody, Padmè could not help but feel a sense of relief in her after the fight, and yet at the same time, a strange sense of emptiness. Almost, she thought, as if she could have done a lot more. Found a way to save Dooku and Grievous. She could still remember how they had looked in their final moments; Grievous hadn’t looked like the monster she had been accustomed to seeing in her nightmares when the younglings were threatened, or when her friends were threatened, or the Jedi or the Republic were threatened. If anything, Grievous seemed oddly empty in this armor. This bizarre armor.

And Dooku – the worst thing about it, Padmè mused, was the fact that to the end he thought he was doing the right thing. Even now, she couldn’t even know what to make of it. The fact that he thought that everything he was doing was for the good of the Republic. What was there to make of it? What was there, truly, to make of it?

“Hey, boss.” Commander Cody, this time, his voice cutting into her thoughts.

“Hello, Cody,” Padmè said, smiling almost in spite of everything. “What’s the status on the upper levels.”

“We’re having a bit of trouble with the battle droids, boss,” Cody said wryly. “It seems they’re getting smarter.”

“I’d best go up and help then.”

“You’d better,” Cody said, with a slight laugh in his voice. Padmè had to laugh as well, almost in spite of everything.

After all, as long as Cody was with her, as long as the clones were working together, they were up for anything.

***

It was long after they had cleared out at least one level of droids that Cody got the transmission from Darth Sidious. It was a message that he was already accustomed to, because in a sense, he had been programmed it since he was first made from the DNA of Jango Fett.

There was something about Darth Sidious, really, that gave Cody the creeps. Something about his dark hood covering his face, the fact that he seemed to be in shadows now. The sound of his voice – it sounded almost, Cody mused, like a hiss.

“It is time,” Sidious said, in that same hissing voice, “Execute Order 66.”

Cody never thought that the day would come. After all, the day that he would end up firing on one of his superiors...she wasn’t just his superior, really. If anything, she was his friend. All the Jedi were, at least to some extent, friends with the clones. It wasn’t really a matter of rank, but of brotherhood. Loyalty.

And yet at the same time, even that, Cody thought, couldn’t really stop them in the end from what was to come. He could only pray that Padmè would forgive him for what he was about to do. Because though he cared for her, the needs of the Republic outweighed any personal attachment. It was a kill of duty, after all – should he kill her.

“It will be done,” Cody said, “My lord.”

Once the transmission ended, Cody turned towards the other clones. “Open fire.”

 

***

All across the galaxy, the transmission was broadcast. To every clone on every planet, every moon, and so many other places. Every clone on every planet and every system and every star and moon – every clone fighting battles throughout the galaxy. Every clone under Sidious’ command. And even sitting in his office, Sidious could not help but smile, if only a little. The plan had gone perfectly. Far too perfectly. He almost didn’t have to do any manipulating, he mused. If anything, the Jedi had made it far too easy for them to be manipulated. So stuck in their own customs. So stuck in their own beliefs. Unable to adapt and change – and most of all, unable to see what was directly in front of them the whole time.

The idea of playing the devil in plain sight, so to speak, had been too easy. And Obi-Wan Kenobi, one of the finest Knights in the Order – Obi-Wan Kenobi had fallen. It had been too easy now, just to manipulate the Jedi Master’s ideas of helping the Republic. Just like Dooku. Fitting, Sidious thought, considering that Dooku had been Master to Obi-Wan’s Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi. The only thing missing was Padmè. She was his child, after all – at least from a certain point of view. He had created her. He had manipulated the midichlorians in Jobal’s blood if only to create her. She was his by right. And he would have her under his thrall, no matter what the cost.

There was also the matter of declaring the Empire. Once the Empire was declared and the Jedi defeated, and Padmè at his side, then Plagueis’ work would be truly done. And that was the greatest reward of all.

Not revenge, really – although it was a pity that he wasn’t there to watch the Jedi die, if one was to be completely truthful – but, in all honesty, just the idea of completing Plagueis’ work.

For all across the galaxy, the Jedi now knew that this was not the end.

This...this was only the beginning. 

 


	26. Chapter Twenty Six: Always Be All Right.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Padme reports in with Master Yoda and sees how, exactly, shit can get worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be.

It was much later in hyperspace that Padmè rubbed her temples. Somehow, she mused, she had had a long day. If anything, she had managed to kill Grievous and Dooku. That was the good news, at least. The bad news was the fact that now, she mused, she was on the run from her own clone troopers. Something that she never imagined in a million years would happen. Or at least less. She never thought it would come to this, and yet, here she was.

In the cockpit next to her, Artoo gave a mournful beep. She turned to look at him now. “I know, Artoo,” she said, patting his dome. “I just hope that Master Yoda’s all right. And everyone else.” She couldn’t imagine losing any more Jedi like she had lost Ahsoka. That, she thought, was something that she doubted that she could ever bear.

It was then that the secret Jedi code flashed across the communications system. Padmè frowned. “Someone’s trying to get through,” she said. She could only hope that it was Master Yoda. Or someone else.

And on the screen was, thankfully, the aged Jedi Master. Padmè sighed in relief. “Master Yoda,” she said, “Thank goodness you’re here.”

“Received your message I did,” Yoda said. “Barely escaped from the clone trooper attack on Kashyyyk I did.”

 _If Master Yoda barely escaped, that must have been a hair raising adventure!_ And yet at the same time, Padmè thought, hair raising was probably the wrong word. If anything else, she mused, hair raising was no doubt an understatement. “I already escaped the clone troopers on Mustafar, Master Yoda,” she said. “They tried to fire on me without warning. I...” She bit her lip. “I had to kill them."

She had never thought that she would have to fight her own soldiers. And yet at the same time, here she was. Fighting her own soldiers, who had fired on her without warning. It had to do with the Order 66 that Count Dooku had spoken of. It, plain and simply, had to. After all, there was no other explanation. Either that or something that had tripped something else in them to go rogue. Perhaps tying into Order 66 again?

 _Stop it, Padmè_ , she said,  _There’s no time to go over the shades of what and why. You have to get to Kashyyyk and speak with Master Yoda. It’s the best you can do right now. You don’t know if anyone else has escaped –_

And even that was the worst thought of all.

Master Yoda looked at her with something that could only amount to sympathy. “Far from an isolated occurrence, this is. Felt the deaths on Kashyyyk, I did.”

Something in Padmè’s blood ran cold. “Tell me that Serra Keto is all right,” she said, “Tell me that everyone is all right. They couldn’t have been – ’’

And yet something in her told her that that was, indeed, the case.

The Jedi had fallen.

All of them.

Or almost all of them. Yoda was all right, at least. But that was cold comfort, at least.

And Obi-Wan...what had happened to Obi-Wan?

She already bit her lip again, hard enough to draw blood – something, she thought, that at least reminded her, if only miserably, of the fact that she was still very much alive. Miserably because it was possible, very much possible, that she and Master Yoda were the very, very last.

And the thought was almost too much to bear.

Master Yoda, meanwhile, looked at her with those solemn green eyes. “Sorry I truly am, Padmè,” he said, and something about him calling her by her first name, and not the more formal “Knight Naberrie” was enough to make her blood run colder than before, if that was at all possible – the situation had truly shaken Master Yoda. The thought of his friends having been slaughtered seemed to have shaken the seemingly unflappable Jedi Master. His students, all most likely dead. “But death...death I sensed across all worlds. Master Plo Koon, Master Ki Adi Mundi, Master Kit Fisto, Master Agen Kolar – ’’

“Do you have a list of the dead?” Padmè said. It sounded almost foolish, she mused, and yet at the same time, she had to know.

“Sending it to you already, I am.”

And even observing it scroll across the screen, something in Padmè froze. Watching the seemingly endless list of dead scroll across the screen – Master Plo Koon was already confirmed. And Master Ki Adi Mundi – Padmè swallowed. He was one of the first Masters to express doubt in her, really, and yet at the same time...he was so kind, really. One of the most brilliant Jedi Masters who had ever lived. And then there was Serra Keto and Aayla Secura. All these brilliant, wonderful men and women, slaughtered by this new mandate. This Order 66.

And then there were the missing. Masters Roan Shryne and Rahm Kota. Kento Marek. To name a few, at least. Padmè swallowed – at least there was solace that at least some Jedi had survived. Hopefully. Assuming that they hadn’t been slaughtered.

“Master Yoda,” she said, “We need to get back to Coruscant.”

“On my way, I already am. Contacted Senator Bail Organa I already have. May the Force be with you, Knight Naberrie.”

Padmè had to smile if only slightly. At least Senator Organa was on their side.

“And with you, Master Yoda.”  _And be careful,_ she thought, even as Master Yoda’s transmission ended.  _We’ve lost too many good men and women today. I doubt we can afford to lose you too._

Once they got back to Coruscant, they could get more information about what was going on. And find a way to the Temple to save any more lives. If possible.

Then again, there were always possibilities. She couldn’t give up now.

Artoo gave a mournful beep. Gently, Padmè reached over and patted his dome again. “We’ll be all right, Artoo,” she said. “We’ll...” Her voice cracked, even remembering a similar statement she had made to Obi-Wan, back when she was young and naïve and could never imagine that Ahsoka would die, or this would happen. “We’ll always be all right,” she said, softly, “You and me.” 


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven: How Liberty Dies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sidious declares his new empire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

It was much later when they got back to Coruscant that Padmè could see the damage for herself. The sight of the Jedi Temple, going up in smoke. Artoo beeped again, softly, mournfully, even as Padmè gently patted him again. It was then that a ship landed. Padmè turned around, only to see Bail Organa and Master Yoda exiting the ship.

 

Padmè was so grateful in this moment that she abandoned any sort of Jedi restraint and ran over if only to hug Bail Organa. Bail seemed surprised at first, but then returned the hug.

 

They drew away after a while, if only at the throat clearing from Master Yoda, and Padmè spoke. “I can’t believe they did it.” She supposed that she should really believe anything, at least, and yet at the same time...

 

“Sensed it, did you?”  
  


“No,” Padmè said, “I mean...I saw something like it. In my nightmares. I guess I never thought...”  
  
Yoda seemed just as pensive if not moreso. If anything, he looked almost remorseful, almost as if blaming  _himself_  for what had happened, which was positively absurd, Padmè thought. It wasn’t Master Yoda’s fault. If anything, he did the best he could. It was far from his fault.

 

And yet she couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if the Jedi had  _seen_  –

 

But the Dark Side of the Force had clouded their vision. It hadn’t helped, at least, in terms of seeing what was going to happen.

 

It was much later that she got the message from Sabe. Her and Bail, at least, got the message from Sabe. Something about the Chancellor calling a meeting into session, and attendance being mandatory.

 

Padmè sighed. She didn’t know what to do, really – she didn’t know whether or not to go with Sabe or, plain and simply, to go with Master Yoda if only to investigate. In all truth, she couldn’t say.

 

“Do what you think is right,” Master Yoda said, softly, “You must.”

 

Padmè supposed that he was right. After all, she thought, if she could find a way to get more information in regards to the Chancellor and what he was doing...

 

“All right,” she said, “I’ll go with Sabe. I just don’t want you to be left by yourself, Master Yoda.” She paused. “I know it sounds silly, but – ’’

 

“Perfectly capable, I am, of defending myself,” Yoda said, sternly.

 

“I don’t want them to kill you,” Padmè said. “We’ve lost too many Jedi this day. I don’t think that we can risk you as well.”

 

A pause.

 

“I know hard it is for you, Knight Naberrie,” Yoda said, and for a moment, Padmè was almost relieved that he was calling her “Knight Naberrie” again. At the very least, she thought, he was somewhat back to normal. “But sacrifice my life I will if only for the greater good.”

 

Padmè nodded. That, she supposed, she could get behind. “All right, Master Yoda,” she said, “But be careful down there. May the Force be with you.”

 

“And with you, Knight Naberrie.”  
  


And with that, Yoda walked away.

 

Padmè could only watch him in this moment even as he continued to walk away. Even in this moment, she thought, she doubted that she had ever felt more alone and more helpless in her entire life.

 

Then she felt Bail Organa’s hand on her shoulder. “Come, Padmè,” he said, “The Chancellor’s waiting for you.”

 

“Yes,” Padmè said. “I suppose.”

 

And she turned around and followed Senator Organa into the Senate building.

 

***

There was something about the gathering of all the Senators in the building waiting for the Chancellor to make his speech that was enough to make Sabe nervous. She supposed that the fact that this was a required Senate meeting was something that should have set off alarm bells, but she couldn’t risk arousing Palpatine’s suspicions by refusing to show up. She was only slightly afraid if only for Padmè. It was a relief, at least, that she had gotten back safely – at least, Sabe thought, she hoped. The news flowing in of the Jedi’s deaths all across the galaxy was enough to make her wonder and worry. The Holonet had mostly framed it as an accident of the clones possibly going rogue and having to be decommissioned (at least, from one of the Holonet programs she was watching – she couldn’t say that any one of the programs had any definitive answer. They seemed to be speculating just as much as everyone else was), but something in Sabe could only interpret as something deeper happening.

 

She could only pray that she was wrong.

 

Because the alternative...she doubted she could bear the alternative.

 

It was then that Padmè arrived, and the first thing that Sabe noticed, underneath the customary dark Jedi robe that she now wore, was that if anything, she looked tired. Exhausted, really. Unkempt and exhausted and downright worried, really. Even now, she could barely recognize the face of the young girl she had taken under her wing all these years ago. She seemed to be almost a hollow shell.

 

“I got your call,” Padmè said. “You said something about the Senate meeting?”

 

“Yes,” Sabe said. “The Holonet...they’ve been reporting the deaths of Jedi everywhere. They think it was some sort of accident.”

 

Something in Padmè seemed to falter. If anything, Sabe thought, the look in her old friend’s eyes suggested that there was something worse afoot than anything else.

 

“It wasn’t an accident,” Padmè said, softly. “The clones...” She sighed. “They tried to fire on me on purpose. I don’t even know why.” She rubbed her brows. “I just hope that we’ll get some degree of an explanation.”  
  
Something in Sabe ached for her old friend. Padmè seemed so desperate now, searching for answers that she was increasingly unlikely to get. “I don’t know,” Sabe said. “I just don’t know.”

 

***

 

It was later that Jar Jar Binks arrived and sat next to Bail Organa, Sabe, and Padmè. “Sorry that mesa am...late,” he said. “Mesa was held up.”

 

“There’s no need to worry, Jar Jar,” Padmè said, smiling if only slightly. For all the things she might not be able to do, at the very least she could provide Jar Jar some degree of comfort. Force knows that they all needed it.

 

It was once the Chancellor arrived that everyone seemed to go quiet. Padmè couldn’t help but feel almost impressed; not even Mas Amedda’s cries of “Order! Order!” – which she had been all too familiar with back in her days as Sabe’s decoy. It tended to be one of the first things she thought of when she thought about Mas Amedda – had to be necessary. The Senate was completely quiet; one could have heard a pin drop, really.

 

And then the Chancellor began to speak. The first thing that Padmè noticed was his face – instead of his familiar features, they seemed to be almost...melted, for lack of a better word. Melted and almost reptilian, like a krayt dragon – those eyes seemed to pierce out through the new black hood that he wore, and something in Padmè, even looking at what she could see underneath that hood, could only wonder what had happened while she had been away that had caused him to be so horrifically scarred. And the thought of someone attacking the Chancellor...that wasn’t exactly new. But an attack that had left him this scarred...

 

Padmè almost wanted to look away. She didn’t want to consider the possibilities, and yet at the same time...

 

 _Force, I’m being ridiculously petty._ And yet at the same time, it wasn’t really that that she was necessarily worried about. If anything, she now wondered what had happened while she had been away.

 

Then the Chancellor began to speak. Even as he relayed his account of what had happened to him, how Master Windu – Master Windu, of all people! – had betrayed him and scarred his face horrifically, how if not for Obi-Wan’s intervention that he would have been killed, Padmè almost couldn’t believe it. And yet even hearing the recordings of the attack in the Chancellor’s office and what had followed...Padme couldn’t bring herself to simply deny that this was happening.

 

“But why would he need to exterminate the rest of the Order?” she whispered to Sabe.

 

“To prevent an uprising, no doubt,” Sabe said, darkly. “Can’t afford anyone else attacking.”

 

“But he’s never done that before.”

 

“He didn’t start making amendments to our constitution either,” Sabe said. “So no...I can’t say that we’ve ever seen this side of him before.” She sighed, rubbed her temples. “I can only assume that he’s become that which he despised.”

 

Padmè could only suppose that she was right. It didn’t make it any easier.

 

“The attempts on my life,” Palpatine said, “Have left me scarred and deformed, but I assure you that my resolve has never been stronger. The Clone Wars are now over. The Separatists have been defeated. Though we have struggled through a long and hard night, we have made it through to a new beginning.”

 

The Senate applauded.

 

Padmè couldn’t doubt the new beginning part, at least. The question was merely what Palpatine was turning into. The man that she had so looked into, becoming all but a dictator before her eyes.

 

“In light of these events,” Palpatine continued, “We shall create the first Galactic Empire that has ever been!” The sheer energy in his voice made the Senate practically go berserk. With each descriptive line, every glowing description of safety, of security, of justice, of peace, of an Empire that would last for a thousand years, of a new constitution...Padme almost couldn’t believe what she was hearing. And yet she couldn’t keep denying it. Because her worst nightmare was occurring before her very eyes.

 

She turned now, to Sabe. “We have to do something,” she said.

 

“We can’t,” Sabe said. “The best we can do is work behind the scenes.”

 

“But liberty is dying even as he speaks!”

 

“I know,” Sabe said, softly. “I know.” For a moment, Padmè thought, she swore that she could hear traces in Sabe’s voice of the young Queen who had taken her under her wing and mentored her. Mentored her in the art of loyalty, and cunning, and so much more. It was time, she thought, at least to be taught this. This one thing. This one, simple thing. How to survive when everything she had ever known was coming apart at the seams.

 

Sabe spoke quietly now. “Fang Zhar has already been arrested. Others...” She bit her lip. “Others have also been arrested. We have to lie low. Keep voting for Palpatine. Make others vote for him as well.”

 

“I doubt that will be necessary.” Senator Bail Organa, this time. If anything, Padmè could practically feel the anger in Bail’s voice. The sheer fury. “After all,” Bail said, voice layered with sarcasm. “He’s Emperor. I don’t think you have to vote in order to keep him in office. It’s not like we have any choice.”

 

Padmè supposed that Bail was right.

 

“Sarcasm’s going to get you nowhere, Bail,” Sabe said. “We have to keep the façade. Keep the illusion. All while doing all these things no one can afford to know about.” She faltered now. Padmè looked at her.

 

“Sabe,” she said, “Is Obi-Wan all right?” More than anything she had to know.

 

“He said that he was going to Sullust,” Sabe said, “Last time I contacted him.”

 

Relief sprung in Padmè’s heart – and yet at the same time, the seeds of confusion. “Why would he need to go to Sullust?” she said. “I mean...”

 

“Something about the Chancellor’s orders,” Sabe said. “I don’t know.”

 

Something in Padmè’s chest felt almost as if an airlock had opened. “He couldn’t possibly be...”

 

“I can’t say,” Sabe said. “I guess we should head to Sullust after that.”

 

It was long after the meeting was finally over and they could leave that Padmè managed to, at least, mind trick her way past the guards if only to make them forget where they were going. At the very least, they had to find Master Yoda.

 

It was in a secluded corner of the hall that Padmè told her and Bail the plan.

 

Sabe seemed almost incredulous. “Master Yoda’s alive?” she said.

 

Padmè nodded. “He actually helped me get back there.” She sighed. “I guess the only problem is that the Temple...there’s no way that we can get in there without being spotted. I can’t risk you getting arrested, Sabe.”

 

“Don’t worry,” Sabe said. “There’s an alternative way. Remember the Coruscant underlevels?”  
  
Padmè nodded.

 

“I think we can use them to get into the Temple and find Master Yoda.”

 

“And find a way to change the recall beacon.”

 

Sabe furrowed her brow.

 

Padmè sighed; it was apparently time to educate Sabe a bit on how the Jedi Templeworked. Sabe had worked with Jedi, of course, but she hadn’t really gotten into the more intimate workings of them. “There’s a recall beacon in the Temple,” she said, “That calls the Jedi back to the Temple whenever they’re needed. I think the clones and...” She almost couldn’t finish the sentence. “The  _Chancellor_ ,” she said, her voice nearly cracking even as she said it, “Have exploited it if only to lure the Jedi into a trap. I have to be able to save them – at least if they’re still alive out there.”

 

“I think they are, Padmè,” Sabe said, softly now. “Don’t worry.”

 

Sabe drew Padmè into a quick hug. Padmè was almost surprised by the hug, but at the very least, it was some degree of consolation. Some degree of a reassurance that she wasn’t alone. That Sabe was standing by her, no matter what. Once Padmè drew away, she smiled if only slightly. “Thank you,” she said, “I needed that.”

 

“I know,” Sabe said, softly, and Padmè knew that Sabe could feel her sorrow. “I know.” She sighed. “Come, Padmè,” she said, “We’ve got work to do.”

 

“That goes without saying.”

 

And they headed towards the Coruscant underworld – and towards an uncertain future..

 


	28. Chapter Twenty Eight: Not Just Our Own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Terminus goes to Sullust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. 
> 
> Author's Notes: Sorry if this is late!

Below, Sullust was almost a vision out of Terminus’ nightmares. Something about the barren wasteland, the rivers of lava below...there was something about it, at least, that was enough to make Terminus at least momentarily uneasy. It wasn’t exactly a bad planet – after all, there were no doubt worse planets that Sidious could have sent Terminus to – and yet at the same time, there was something about it that made Terminus uneasy.

Terminus didn’t seem to be the only one, really; if anything, Ar One, next to him, beeped uneasily.

“I know, Ar One,” Terminus said. “But it isn’t as if there’s any other choice.” He sighed, ran a hand through his hair. “At least,” he said, “The sooner we get this over with, the better.”

Ar One beeped as if to show disagreement.

“The Chancellor did demand it,” Terminus said. “It isn’t as if there was any other choice.”

Ar One gave another beep of annoyance.

“Ar One,” Terminus said, his own annoyance rising, “Do you think that I had any other choice? I didn’t want to do this. I  _warned_  them and they wouldn’t...they wouldn’t...” He could already hear his voice cracking. “They wouldn’t listen to me.”

He hadn’t wanted to do what he did. Killing almost every Jedi in the Temple – he said “almost” if only because he knew that some must have escaped. He had tried to bring this factor up to Lord Sidious, really. The Sith Lord, naturally, didn’t seem to listen.

That was the problem with Sidious, Terminus mused. For someone supposedly so brilliant, if anything else, he could be mindbogglingly stupid. Brilliant enough to spin out a plan that tricked almost all of the Republic, and yet when one got down to it, he seemed to overlook the smaller details.

For example, if his apprentice was already planning on overthrowing him once the mission to Sullust was finished.

It was really a pity that it had to end this way. And yet at the same time, Terminus doubted that he had much of a choice.

He was doing his duty to the end, after all. Nothing more.

 

***

It was much later that Padmè, Bail and Sabe found Master Yoda. To say that Master Yoda didn’t look happy, Padmè thought, was no doubt an understatement. If anything, Padmè doubted that she had ever seen Master Yoda look more tired. More weary. And more than that, Padmè thought – it was almost as if any sort of idealism had been stripped away from the wise Jedi Master. As if the Master Yoda she knew had effectively died.

Perhaps it wasn’t the case. Perhaps, Padmè thought, it was just an overreaction. And yet at the same time, there was something about it that made her unable to keep from wondering. There was something about it that made her wonder if Yoda had, in a way, died – and what had caused Yoda to look almost as if his world had ended.

Because the look in his eyes – if there was a more powerful expression of grief, of devastation, of emptiness, Padmè doubted she would ever see it again.

“Master Yoda,” Sabe said, “Thank goodness you’re alive.”

“Surprised, are you?” But there seemed to be at least some degree of a trace of affection in Yoda’s voice. That, Padmè supposed, was probably good.

“I didn’t think that you would survive,” Sabe said. “Not after all this time. After the news I heard on the Holonet, I thought you had most certainly died.”

“Escape, I managed to. But far from a victory it was.”

“We saw what the Chancellor did,” Sabe said. “Declaring himself Emperor and whatnot.” She rubbed her temples. “It’s positively absurd; Master Windu would never try and assassinate the Chancellor. There had to be some sort of mistake – ’’

And before Padmè knew it, she was joining in as well. And Bail Organa. “ – he said something about making a new Empire – ’’

“ – the Senate actually applauded him – ’’

On and on they went. And somehow, Padmè thought, it was almost a relief. Almost a relief to lose her composure if only once.

Yoda cleared his throat, almost as if signaling to them that they could calm themselves now.

They did, but if anything, Padmè thought, it was less following his directions now – well, all right, maybe that contributed somewhat – and at least a perverse sort of desire to hear what else might have gone wrong while she was on that mission to Mustafar.

“Far worse events have turned out to be,” Yoda said. “If anything...fear I do that the worst is yet to come.”

“How can it possibly get worse, Master Yoda?” Bail, this time. “We watched liberty die in front of us. How can it possibly get worse?”

Yoda seemed to pause now. And he seemed so afraid now, so shaken, so alone, that Padmè almost wished that Bail hadn’t asked the question. She supposed that now was the best time to cut in.

“We’ve got to change the recall beacon first,” she said. “And then we can get some answers.”

***

Most of the Separatists tried to flee the moment that Terminus entered. And they would have been wise to do so. But it wasn’t as if it mattered, in the end. Terminus hadn’t wanted to do this. And yet at the same time, it wasn’t as if he had any other choice in the matter. If anything, it was the same as he had always done. Duty to the Jedi Order since he was a boy. Duty to the Republic. And duty to the new Emperor.

He had no love for the Trade Federation. And yet there was something in how they pleaded for mercy – even or especially Gunray, the miserable, pitiful creature – that made him, almost, want to turn back.

And yet the damage was done in the end.

By the time that Terminus was done, the Separatists were no more than butchered corpses. He looked over them, all of them, and the first thing that came into his mind – which he supposed was something that said volumes about what had happened now – was how simply, honestly,  _uncivilized_  all of this was.

Because that was the best he could really muster, at least in the end.

Still, he managed to swallow whatever nausea that was boiling in his throat and walk if only to give his status report to Sidious. Sidious approved, of course – of course he did. It was what he always did, Terminus supposed. For all his pretensions of it all being for the sake of order in the Empire and whatnot, he was doing this for his own pleasure. Terminus could sense it.

It would be a joy to kill Sidious and seize power for himself. That enough was certain.

“Lord Terminus,” Sidious said, “I already sense that there may be insurgents returning to the Republic. I advise you to return to Coruscant and thus get rid of them.”

Terminus could already feel his blood freezing in his veins even as Sidious said the words. He could already infer who Sidious was speaking of. He was speaking of Padmè, no doubt. And Sabe. And Bail.

 _Don’t be absurd,_ a part of him said.  _It’s probably Rahm Kota or Roan Shryne or the others. Don’t jump to conclusions._

And yet at the same time, Terminus could already sense that it was, indeed, his no doubt former friends. And even the thought of having to kill them...even that was almost too much.

Still, he played his usual role of good soldier, saying that of course he would return to Coruscant and root out whatever traitors were left; one wouldn’t want to leave any loose ends after all, and Sidious seemed to buy it. Even as the hologram winked out of existence, Terminus had to smile if only slightly.

Because for all of Sidious’ brilliance, he still seemed to overlook the obvious.

For example, the matter of the fact that his apprentice was still far from pleased in regards to Order 66. Overthrowing him would be only right. And perhaps then...then he could find a way to reform the Empire and make it how it should be.

Except...

Except there was still the matter of the fact that Terminus doubted that there was a way out after all that he had no done. Even looking at the bodies on the floor, he could still hear how the Separatists had screamed for mercy and he had denied them. He had always been one for not killing a helpless opponent. And yet at the same time...

Was that who he had now turned into? A butcher, a vigilante?

Had Sidious made him that way?

Terminus walked towards the windows now...walked towards the windows overlooking the Sullustan hills. The sun was already setting, casting an almost eerie, yet somehow beautiful glow on the hills. He could still remember watching the sunset with Sabe on Naboo, and the sunsets of Coruscant...how they had brought a rich glow to everything.

And now...now if anything, the sunset seemed to be stained with blood. Blood that he had spilled this day.

There was no way that Padmè and the others would forgive him for what he had done. And yet what choice had he? The Clone Wars had gone on too long. They had to end.

And Terminus knew, more than anything, that he had at least done all of this for the right reasons. Because too many people had died during the Clone Wars. Steela. Ninety Nine. Ahsoka.

 _They would be so proud of you, wouldn’t they?_ A part of him seemed to niggle now at him.  _Steela, Ahsoka? Depa Billaba and Adi Gallia? Qui Gon Jinn? They would be so proud of you._

And Terminus knew, even overlooking the hills, that the opposite was true. Qui Gon wouldn’t forgive him. Ahsoka wouldn’t forgive him either. He swore that he could hear her, arguing with him about decisions following the Code, but not truly being the right thing. Ahsoka, at least in some ways, had made him better. Padmè had made him better.

And now they were gone.

Terminus stood overlooking the hills of Sullust, and, quietly, shed a tear if only for those who had died. Those he had loved, and those who he hadn’t thought fondly of, but mourned all the same. Because someone had to mourn them.

And who would do it, if not him?

Master Yoda had once said that they mourned all lives lost, even their own. Terminus supposed the right words were that they mourned all lives lost, not just their own.

It seemed right, at least.


	29. Chapter Twenty Nine: Never Meant to End This Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Padme finds out what Terminus did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. 
> 
> Author's Notes: Warning for potentially triggering/upsetting content involving child death. I know that one should have figured that, but still...

There was something about entering the Temple corridors that was almost overwhelming for Padmè. It wasn’t just the fact that the younglings were slaughtered, although that was bad enough. It wasn’t just the fact that she could recognize so many Jedi in the carnage: Petro, for example, and Katooni, and so many others, and Jedi Master Cin Drallig, and so many others. It was the fact that it shouldn’t have happened. More than that. It was the fact that if anything, Padmè had never expected, even with how bad the Clone Wars had gotten, that something like this would have happened.

“It shouldn’t have ended that way,” Padmè found herself saying softly, and she knew that that well enough was an understatement. If anything, it shouldn’t have ended like this if only because if anything else, it wasn’t right. The fact that every Jedi had to be slaughtered like this. That she had to come home and realize that all of this was no more than a set up for some twisted game.

 _Home_. Technically, this wasn’t her  _home_  home, but it was close enough. She hadn’t expected to get attached to the Temple the way she did, and yet at the same time, she had. This was her home. This was more than home. If anything else, it was as if it was part of her.

And it had been destroyed.

Even kneeling beside the prone bodies of Petro and Katooni, Padmè leaned forward if only to close their eyes. She couldn’t say that she had known them well at first. Petro, at least, had been a source of support after Ahsoka had died. And she had, though she was not technically his Master (technically, another Jedi, Kara Solo, had been his Master), decided to at least take care of him, at least in a sense.

Petro was a good Jedi. That couldn’t be denied. He mostly needed someone to show him the way. Someone to discipline him. Because if anything else, it couldn’t be denied that he could be impulsive. He was a good Jedi, really, but with the passion of a thousand theater actors and the common sense of an overenergetic pitten.

She could only wish that it hadn’t ended like this.

“I should have gotten here sooner,” Padmè said. “I really should have.”

“I know,” Sabe said, softly. “I know.”

She drew Padmè into a hug again, and it was in that moment, at least, that Padmè was grateful for Sabe’s presence. At least it was some degree of a reassurance that everything would be all right. Eventually, Padmè found herself strong enough to draw away.

“Come on,” she said. “We have business with the recall beacon.”

It was easy to really divert the recall beacon. Easy, at least, to divert it from COME HOME to RUN AND HIDE with the use of the Force. It was later, really, that Padmè turned to look at Master Yoda. “Master Yoda,” she said, “Can we at least look at theTemple recordings?”

Master Yoda seemed sad now. Then, “If examine the recordings you do, only pain you will find.”

“Then it is pain that we have earned. Master Yoda...if...” Somehow, Padmè couldn’t bring herself to finish her sentence. “If Obi-Wan is somehow involved with the attacks, we need to know.”

Master Yoda’s ears seemed to droop. If anything, Padmè mused, she doubted that she had ever seen him look sadder, or more alone. Then, “Very well.” 

They followed him now into the security recording room. It was later that Padmè found the recordings, and she could only watch as a hooded figure, so much like the hooded man from some of her dreams, from some of the dreams that Obi-Wan had described to her once, marched into the Temple, slaughtering every Jedi in its path. She could only watch even as Petro ordered the other Jedi to run. “I’ll hold him off!”

“But Petro!” Katooni, this time. “You can’t! He’s no match for you!”

“I know,” Petro said, grimly. “But I’m not letting you get hurt.”

“I’m not leaving you, Petro.”

And Padmè could only watch helplessly as Katooni and Petro faced off against the hooded figure. As they tried everything – and at least Petro seemed to be working well against the Clone Troopers. He was good at creative thinking, the young boy. And the training balls seemed to be working against some of the Clone Troopers, at least.

But even Petro couldn’t hold out against the hooded figure forever. Even Katooni couldn’t hold out against the hooded figure forever. And thus they fell. Padmè fought the urge to avert her eyes, because if nothing else, she had to see this. She had to know what the hooded figure had done. What had happened at the Temple that day, because if nothing else, there was no other choice.

Because it already had happened. Averting her eyes would do nothing to change it.

It was later that the hooded figure knelt before Sidious, lowering his hood, and Padmè’s heart sank. No, if anything, she thought, it wasn’t the matter of the fact that it sank or not. If anything else, if nothing else, she felt as if she had been kicked in the chest by a Gamorrean, because kneeling before Sidious, of all people, was Obi-Wan Kenobi.

He looked tired, so tired, and so guilty. Padmè supposed that he should. Because what he had done was, essentially, mass murder. He had turned on his own comrades and slaughtered them...but for what? For why?

Padmè knew full well that in the Force there was no why. But of all things, it didn’t apply here. Because Obi-Wan Kenobi had committed murder. But why?

“The traitors have been destroyed, Lord Sidious.” So calm, almost as if he was just ordering dinner instead of discussing the matter of mass murder and whatnot. “Lord Vader and Asajj Ventress have already collected the holocrons – they’re back in the hands of the Sith.”

“Good, good,” Sidious purred, almost like a contented rancor, and the kicked in the chest feeling returned again because Padmè  _knew_  that voice. The Chancellor’s voice. The Chancellor, a Sith Lord?

After everything else, she supposed that this was the least surprising of the day, and yet at the same time, it didn’t hurt any less. If anything, it hurt more. Because the man that she had looked up to all her life was the Sith Lord that had been controlling the Republic. Count Dooku had been right. And she had killed him.

The  _Jedi_  had killed him. So effortlessly playing into the hands of what Sidious wanted, and somehow, they hadn’t even realized it. The Dark Side had clouded everything, clouded their judgment...it was the only way that Sidious could have gotten away with so many things under their very noses.

“Padmè.” Sabe’s voice was soft. “It’s all right. Trust me.” And yet at the same time, there was something in Sabe’s voice that told Padmè that she was already struggling not to cry as well.

Padmè bit her lip, put a hand on Sabe’s shoulder. It was the best she could do.

“So,” Sidious said, “Where are they?”

“They’re on their way to your location right now,” Obi-Wan said. “They have the artifacts.”

“Excellent. Now go, Lord Terminus,” Sidious said, “And bring peace to the Empire.”

“I will, my Master,” Terminus said. And Padmè could tell that there was no joy in his voice at what he had done. Simply the calmness of, pure and simply, doing his duty.

“Padmè,” Sabe said softly, “You can shut it off now. Trust me.”

Padmè did. She slumped against the wall now, rubbing her temples, suddenly feeling very frustrated, very angry, and very, so very, tired. Sidious was the Chancellor, the Chancellor was Sidious. Her mentor was a Sith Lord. And the Republic and the Jedi Order had fallen. It was almost too much to take in.

Master Yoda, meanwhile, was completely composed. And yet Padmè could still sense the sadness in his voice even as he said, “Destroy the Sith we must.” Because she had a feeling that the sight of his students slaughtered and the sight of Obi-Wan Kenobi, one of his most beloved students, as a Sith Lord, was almost too much for him to take in.

“I know,” Padmè said. “Just...” She bit her lip. “Let me go after Obi-Wan,” she said. “I can help him.”

“Twisted by the Dark Side he is. Unable to help him, you may be.”

“You don’t know that, Master Yoda,” Padmè said. “I mean...you could have saved Dooku after all these years, but you didn’t. I know that I’m just as guilty of it, but you could have helped him. You...it’s as if you’re so focused on the fact that others have been corrupted that you can’t see the very concept of redemption.”

“Padmè – ’’ Bail began, but Padmè continued.

“If it’s possible to save Obi-Wan,” Padmè said, “Then that’s what I’m going to do. Because that’s what a Jedi does. And if I don’t do that...what Jedi will I be?”

Silence.

Yoda seemed thoughtful now. Padmè felt almost guilty after what she had said to him, and yet it needed to be said. After all, someone had to call out Master Yoda. One problem that Master Yoda had, when one really thought about it, was the fact that he was surrounded by people who didn’t call him out on things. Even when he needed to be called out.

She supposed that the best time to call him out was now. Even if it was possibly too late.

“Do what you believe is right,” Yoda said, “You must. But uncertain the future is. Doomed to failure you may be, or blessed to succeed. Simply be careful, Padmè. Too many Jedi have we lost today.”

“I know,” Padmè said. “I won’t fail you. I’m not afraid.”

“Afraid of your failure I am not. Merely afraid for your safety.”

“I’m going with you.” Sabe, this time. “Obi-Wan’s the responsibility of both of us. It’s only right.” She smiled if only weakly. “And I am armed. No need to worry.”

“May the Force be with you both.” Master Yoda, this time.

“And with you, Master Yoda,” Padmè said, softly.

Even heading towards the nearest hangar bay, Padmè turned to look towards Bail Organa. “If there’s any trouble,” she said, “We’ll contact you. I promise.”

“You’d better,” Bail said, and the slightly teasing note in his voice reassured Padmè if only slightly. Then he grew more serious. “Good luck, you two.”

“You as well, Senator,” Padmè said. “May the Force be with you.”  
  
Even as Bail walked away, Padmè turned to look at Sabe. “He’s going to be all right, isn’t he?” She said it if only for reassurance purposes.

“He will be,” Sabe said. “I mean...we’re going to be all right. All four of us. You’ll see.”

“I don’t know.” Padmè sighed. “Every time I’ve heard or used the phrase ‘we’re going to be all right’, something bad has usually happened. I don’t know if I’m quite certain anymore.”

“But we will be,” Sabe said. “After all, what’s the worst that could happen?”

Padmè supposed she was right. And yet at the same time, something prickled at her that said that what was about to happen would be worse than she could have ever imagined.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I just hope that the Force is in our favor.” 


	30. Chapter Thirty: Hope Fails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the final battle occurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

It was long after Darth Terminus headed towards the hangar bay that he saw the ship landing outside. He could already feel his senses prickling if only with warning, and yet at the same time, he could at least feel Sabe’s presence inside. Had Sabe betrayed him?  
  
No. No, she wouldn’t. Your imagination’s overactive. She would never betray you. And yet at the same time, Terminus could not help but have a feeling that somehow, that was the case.  
  
The best he could do, at least, was to wait and see.  
  
At least he had his lightsaber at his belt. And while he was loathe to draw a lightsaber on his own wife, he knew that he would if there was no other choice.  
  
He drew back his hood again before heading towards the place where Sabe’s ship was parked. Sabe ran to him now, and even seeing the look of relief in her eyes if only to see him again, something in Terminus’ chest seemed to loosen if only slightly even as she ran for him. He ran for her, and they embraced, in the middle of the hangar, and Terminus was grateful, so grateful, just to be with her in that moment, to feel her close to him, to know that she was all right. The question was what she was doing out there, but he supposed that he would find out soon enough, and it wasn’t as if it was relevant.  
  
“Sabe,” he said, softly, once they drew away. “I saw your ship. What are you doing out there?”  
  
“The news from the Temple,” Sabe said, “I was worried about you, so I came.”  
  
Terminus’ brow furrowed. Somehow, he couldn’t help but feel the first pricklings of confusion beginning to arise.  
  
“I know what you did, Obi-Wan,” Sabe said. “I saw the holograms of you killing the Jedi. I just want to know why you did it.”  
  
Something in Terminus suddenly became very hollow, and he felt, almost, as if he could not breathe. She knew. She had seen the holograms. He had never wanted her to see those, not necessarily to protect any sort of reputation, per se, but to prevent her heart from breaking. She was a strong woman, Sabe, and yet at the same time, there were things that he doubted even she could take. He didn’t want to hurt her.  
  
“I did what I had to do,” he said. “I never wanted it to come to this, Sabe, but there was no other choice.”  
  
“No other choice?” The sound of Sabe’s voice even as she said it...somehow, it hurt. Seeing her this angry, this devastated...she didn’t raise her voice. And yet at the same time, Terminus swore that he saw tears forming in her eyes. “You betrayed the Republic, Obi-Wan. How can you see this as the most viable alternative?”  
  
“You didn’t see what I saw. Master Windu going to assassinate the Chancellor.” Even remembering was enough to hurt. Terminus – Obi-Wan – never thought he would live to see Mace Windu almost kill in cold blood. And yet he did.  
  
Perhaps it was best that he had interfered when he had. Taken Mace Windu’s place, as it were. It was the best he could do, in the end.  
  
“I know,” Sabe said. “But it doesn’t take away from the fact that you killed almost everyone in the Temple.”  
  
“I did only what Sidious told me to.”  
  
“But for what reason?” Sabe demanded. “The Obi-Wan I knew would have never followed the demands of a despot.”  
  
“He did what he did for the good of the galaxy.”  
  
“By ordering mass murder? By organizing a dictatorship? I can’t help but wonder, Obi-Wan...what has happened to you? What are you changing into?”  
  
The question almost rendered Terminus speechless. The thought of what he was changing into was almost enough to make him wonder what was happening to him. What he had done. Qui Gon...Qui Gon would despise him as much as Sabe did now if he saw what his student had done.  
  
And yet what choice did he have?  
  
“I’m sorry, Sabe,” Terminus said, if only softly, “But there was no other way.”  
  
“There’s always a way,” Sabe said. “Just come with me. Come with me back to Naboo. Give up this, all of it, and come home. Everything will be all right.”  
  
Terminus wanted to. And yet at the same time...  
  
“I can’t.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“It isn’t that simple. And besides...who is going to work to overthrow Lord Sidious, if not me?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Because of what happened in the Temple,” Terminus said. “Because if anything else, if there is any other way...we’re going to overthrow Sidious and we’re going to do it together.”  
  
“At what cost?”  
  
Terminus could already feel the first pricklings of frustration in him. “Sabe,” he said, “It’s only right, isn’t it?”  
  
“It’s wrong,” Sabe said. “I don’t care how you want to justify it, it’s wrong. Darth Terminus is wrong.”  
  
And it was in this moment that Terminus realized the truth. Sabe was not going to come with him. She had abandoned him. Another person he had lost, another person close to him that he had lost. He supposed that it was why neither Jedi nor Sith were supposed to have attachments. Because in the end, they hurt.  
  
“Then I suppose I have no choice,” Terminus said. He drew his lightsaber. “I have no desire to harm you, Sabe, but if I have to, I will.”  
  
Even at the stake of our child...  
  
What a life they could have known. Together.  
  
He had had this mistaken notion, when they had finally married on Naboo, that she would be with him. Forever. And that he would be with her forever. Obi-Wan and Sabe Kenobi. What a team they would have been. And it was here on the planet of Sullust that this team was going to come to a close.  
  
That it would break apart.  
  
And even as lightsaber clashed against vibroblade, even as they dueled, Darth Terminus, formerly Obi-Wan Kenobi, knew that the Force had saved the most devastating blows for last.  
  
Ahsoka had been bad enough. As had Adi Gallia and so many others. Mace Windu had been bad enough. But the idea of his beloved wife turning on him as well...that, he realized, hurt the most.  
  
***  
Padmè knew full well that she was supposed to stay put and keep look out. And yet at the same time, she knew that she had to find a way to intervene in the fight. To stop this from getting out of control. She didn’t know how lucky she would be, but at the very least, she had to try.  
  
And so she recited the Jedi Code in her mind, if only as a form of calming her mind. There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no death, there is the Force.  
  
It was a lie, of course, at least in its way. Almost all of that had been demolished in the attack on the Temple. And yet, at the very least, Padmè could keep herself at least relatively sane in the fight that was to come.  
  
And she got up and ran down the ramp towards the two of them. Terminus stopped now, almost in shock, before turning to look at Padmè, and then towards Sabe. “Her as well?” He didn’t raise his voice. Somehow, Padmè mused, that was the worst part of all. “You brought her here?”  
  
“I’m not here to kill you, Obi-Wan,” Padmè said, “Believe me. We just wanted to help.” And yet the words sounded so feeble, so weak.  
  
Terminus turned from Padmè to Sabe. “So this is how it ends. After everything that we’ve been through, you bring her here to interfere. I’m afraid there is no other choice.”  
  
“Terminus, don’t!”  
  
But it was too late. Terminus had already used the Force if only to grip Sabe by the throat, even as Sabe’s hands strained towards it. Padmè could only freeze if only in horror, watching her mentor, who had taught her everything she knew about the Force and following the Light Side, choking the woman he loved.  
  
And suddenly, Padmè had had enough. She was furious – no, worse than furious. She could already feel the beginnings of her anger, this cold anger, rise in her chest. She had had enough of the betrayals, of the murder, and so much more. She sprang towards Terminus and sliced off his hand.  
  
Terminus seemed almost in shock even as Sabe fell to the ground. Even getting Terminus’ severed hand away from Sabe’s throat – something Padmè doubted she ever would have had to do, but this was war, she supposed. A war that was still going on without end – Padmè, shaking, looked over at Sabe. “Are you all right?”  
  
“I am,” Sabe said.  
  
“Good. Get back to the ship and contact Bail Organa. Immediately. I’ll hold him off.”  
  
“I’m not leaving you!”  
  
“I know, Sabe,” Padmè said, “But you have to go. Quickly.”  
  
A flicker of conflict appeared on Sabe’s face. And then she sighed. “All right then. Good luck.”  
  
“You too.” It was the best Padmè could say, at the very least.  
  
The two of them embraced quickly before Sabe ran towards the ship. Terminus stood there now, with a smoldering stump of an arm, and a cold fury to match Padmè’s.  
  
“Senator Organa is in on this as well?”  
  
“Of course he is,” Padmè said. “For the sake of Republic. For democracy.”  
  
“I suppose I should have known, Padmè. Your devotion to democracy and the Republic, to outdated ideals, is as predictable as ever.” Terminus sighed, picked up his lightsaber with his remaining hand. “I will do what I must.”  
  
“As will I.”  
  
And it was there on Sullust that the duel began.  
  
***  
It was back on the Negotiator that Sabe spoke to Bail Organa. “Yes,” she said, “I was just attacked by Terminus. Padmè managed to save me in time, but we’re going to need some assistance. Just to pick Padmè up and everything. I’m already on the Negotiator right now.”  
  
“All right,” Bail said. “I already managed to find Master Yoda. Sidious...well, Yoda lost to him.” Even hearing the sheer heaviness of Bail’s tone, Sabe knew one thing was all too clear. They were losing this battle. Running, in the end, would have to be the only viable option should they fail.  
  
Some would call it cowardice, perhaps, but if anything, if nothing else, Sabe called it common sense. She was not one to run from a battle, but sometimes the so-called cowards did survive in the end. As they were wont to do.  
  
“I see,” Sabe said. “Just get here quickly. Terminus has gone insane.”  
  
“We’re on our way. Organa out.”  
  
Even after the transmission ended, Sabe turned to look at R2-D2.  
  
“Don’t worry, Artoo,” Sabe said. “Padmè’s good at what she does. Whatever happens...” Sabe sighed. “She’s going to be all right, you know. We’ll see.”  
  
***  
Silver. Blue. Silver. Blue. Silver. Blue. Padmè had been all too familiar in terms of dueling with Sith, but she never imagined that said Sith was going to be her own mentor in the end. She never imagined that Obi-Wan would turn to the side of the Sith. It seemed almost unreal, almost like a dream. And yet she knew that she couldn’t write it off as a dream because, if anything, it was real. Far too real.  
  
Silver. Blue. Silver. Blue. Silver. Blue. They continued to duel now. Obi-Wan had taught her how to duel in the past, but she had never imagined that it would become reality. Even leaping from platform to platform, keeping him on his toes, Padmè could only pray that she would not have to kill Darth Terminus. Because even the very idea was enough to break her heart.  
  
Silver. Blue. Silver. Blue. Silver. Blue. They dueled throughout the command center, and in between Force Waves and Crushes and so much more, Padmè could already see the dead lying around the control center. Obi-Wan had killed them. The gentle, kindly Master who would have preferred to meditate rather than fight...he had done this. He had murdered them.  
  
She never would have imagined that he would do such a thing. And yet he had.  
  
He had done plenty of ambiguous things over the years. The interrogation of Cad Bane. Faking his own death if only to go underground. And yet at the same time, Padmè never imagined all these acts, large and small, would lead him to this destination.  
  
Silver. Blue. Silver. Blue. They dueled from platform to platform on the lava river, and if not for a quick jump to another platform, Padmè knew that Terminus would have most likely sent her falling to her death in the lava below. And that...that she knew she could not afford to do. Not on her life, at least.  
  
Silver. Blue. Silver Blue. Over and over again.  
  
“You’re good. You’re very good.” Terminus seemed almost admiring now. “I can understand why the Sith wanted you to join their side. Be grateful, in a way, that I took your place.”  
  
“I would be grateful if not for all those you slaughtered,” Padmè said. She knew that she was goading Terminus now, but if she could at least somewhat snap him out of what he was doing, that would perhaps be the greatest reward of all.  
  
“I did what I had to do,” Terminus said, and yet even in his voice, Padmè knew that he didn’t believe it himself.  
  
“It’s a lie that you’ve told yourself just to make the truth of what you’ve done less horrible.” Even as they pressed lightsabers together, even as they all but tussled, lightsaber to lightsaber, Padmè knew the truth full well. Because Terminus loathed what he had done, no matter how he tried to hide it. If anything else, she had to at least find a way to save him.  
  
But how?  
  
For all that Terminus seemed to loathe what he had done, he seemed to be deluded into thinking it was the right thing.  
  
How could delusion and truth seemingly coexist?  
  
Padmè supposed that she would never truly know.  
  
“Do you even remember Petro? The boy that Ahsoka helped train? All these younglings that Ahsoka helped train? When she took them to Ilum to get their crystals?”  
  
“Don’t you dare – ’’  
  
“They weren’t just nameless cannonfodder that you decided to walk in and dispose of. They were people – people who had families that they weren’t allowed to see, who had dreams they couldn’t fulfill, people who looked up to you, loved you, trusted you. How can you even live with yourself?”  
  
“How can you – ’’  
  
“She would be so proud of you,” Padmè said, and she knew how horrible the statement was, but it wasn’t as if she had any other choice but to say it. Because she knew full well that she had to find a way to get through to Terminus, somehow.  
  
“What?” The fury in Terminus’ voice was quiet now.  
  
“Ahsoka. She would be so proud of you. Slaughtering younglings and other Jedi left and right, slaughtering some of the students that she trained. She would be so proud of you.”  
  
Terminus’ fury was almost immediate. Now, Padmè mused, even as she dodged Terminus’ furious blows and so much more, dodged the grief that was now pouring into the Sith Lord’s strokes and blows, she couldn’t help but wonder, even now, what she had done.  
  
What you could, she told herself. It was cold comfort, but it would have to do.  
  
“It doesn’t have to end this way, Terminus!” She dodged blow after blow, leapt from machine to machine, dodging the enraged Sith Lord, a Sith Lord seemingly consumed by grief. “Come with me! I can save you!”  
  
“There is nothing you can do.” Terminus’ voice was softer now, sadder. “I did my duty for the Empire. To protect it against those who dared threaten it. Something I doubt that you would understand.”  
  
“I understand full well,” Padmè said. “Just not like this.”  
  
They had arrived now upon a distant shore. A distant lava shore, Padmè thought. She hadn’t thought that it would end like this. Dueling to the death on a shore with lethal lava below. And yet here they were. And she couldn’t help, even now, but feel helpless. She could still remember Ventress’ words, from one of their duels.  
  
“What good is the title of ‘Keeper of the Peace’ if you cannot help those in need?”  
  
And of all the accusations that Ventress had made, Padmè knew that this was no doubt the truest of them. It was one of those moments where she saw Ventress not as a ruthless Dark Jedi, but someone who genuinely seemed to believe that she was doing the right thing.  
  
And now Obi-Wan had fallen into that trap.  
  
She had never expected him to do so. And yet here he was.  
  
Blue. Silver. Blue. Silver. Padmè couldn’t bring herself to hit Obi-Wan – not necessarily out of attachment. Simply out of fear of falling. She couldn’t become like him. She couldn’t hurt him, or give into her emotions. Otherwise, who was she?  
  
What good was the title of Jedi if she was no more than a vigilante?  
  
And yet even now, the fight continued to deteriorate. To get fiercer. More violent. And though it was now the last thing that Padmè ever wanted, she found herself slicing off Obi-Wan’s remaining arm. His lightsaber tumbled now, towards the lava. She could at least retrieve the lightsaber. And yet somehow, she couldn’t save Obi-Wan.  
  
“Go.” Terminus’ voice was soft. “Leave me.”  
  
“I won’t leave you.”  
  
“You did your duty,” Terminus said, and for a moment, Padmè could swear that she heard Obi-Wan in his voice again. The mentor she had cared for so deeply. “You did...beautifully. Far better than I ever would have done.”  
  
Padmè bit her lip; she could already feel the tears welling up further. “I didn’t want it to end this way.”  
  
“Neither did I. Everything has its time, Padmè...and everything dies. Now go. Leave me.”  
  
Padmè knew that he had a point, at least. Because she could already feel it in the Force. Sidious was coming. She had to get back to the Negotiator, and quickly.  
  
Though she hadn’t mentioned it to Master Yoda, she had sensed Sabe’s pregnancy, if only in the Force. It was best, at least, to assist Sabe in her time of need.  
  
It was on the ship that Padmè turned to look towards Sabe and Bail, as well as Yoda, who was now on the ship as well. Bail looked almost exhausted, and Yoda...Yoda moreso. Sabe, meanwhile, still seemed to be rubbing her throat, if only in shock. “I never thought he would do this.”  
  
“Consume his senses, the Dark Side did. And his sense of self.” Yoda, this time.  
  
“I know,” Sabe said, if only softly. “It doesn’t really make it any better, though.” She sighed. “I could have saved him,” she said, softly. “I could have.”  
  
“I know, Sabe.” Padmè sighed. “Come on...let’s get to Polis Massa.”  
  
“Polis Massa?” Bail’s brows furrowed. “But why would you – ’’  
  
“It’s for the best,” Padmè said. “At least...Sabe can give birth there.”  
  
  
***  
It was near the Sullust rivers of lava that Sidious found what remained of Darth Terminus. It was a difficult matter of retrieving him from the lava, and yet at the same time, the matter of using the Force if only to levitate him from the lava was more than useful. There was something, even now, about examining him, that was enough to make Sidious look over him if only in dismay. It shouldn’t have ended like this. And yet...  
  
“What happened to him?” Ventress, this time.  
  
“It seems,” Sidious said, “That whoever did this to him defeated him quite thoroughly.” A pause. “He’s lucky to be alive. A lesser man may have died.”  
  
“Obi-Wan Kenobi was never a lesser man.” Vader, this time.  
  
“That I am aware of,” Sidious said.  
  
“Is there any way that we can help him?” Vader asked.  
  
Sidious would have almost preferred to leave Terminus this way, if only as punishment for his foolishness. And yet...  
  
“There is,” Sidious said. “It’s a complicated process, but it can be done...”  
  
***  
It was much later that they laid Terminus on the bed. Vader knelt next to him. There was something about Terminus that even though he had humiliated Vader in battle and killed some of the closest things to friends he had in the Sith...somehow, Vader pitied him.  
  
Terminus’ eyes fluttered open, and he smiled, if only slightly. “Hello.”  
  
Vader sighed if only in relief. “Are you all right?” It was a foolish question, and yet he had to know.  
  
“Oh yes,” Terminus said, if only wryly. “A slight case of scorching, but I’m perfectly all right.”  
  
Vader would have been damned if that was even “slight”.  
  
“I really am sorry,” Vader said. “I should have gotten here sooner.”  
  
“Don’t be,” Terminus said. “I am perfectly fine.” He coughed. “Quite painful, though. I have seen worse, but even so...”  
  
“Stop doing that.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Making jokes. It hurts.”  
  
Terminus gave him a wry smile. “Because they’re bad?”  
  
“No. Because....because...” Vader bit his lip; it sounded almost humiliating even saying this, but it was true. “Because you’re breaking my heart.”  
  
If Terminus had any eyebrows left, he would have raised them. “You pity me?”  
  
“Yes.” Vader never thought that he would grow to pity the man who had bested him so many times, and yet here he was. “For my part.”  
  
“So,” Terminus said, “What do I do?”  
  
“Just close your eyes, Terminus,” Vader said. “Focus. Focus on everything you’ve ever hated. I know it does sound slightly mad, but trust me. Just focus. Don’t focus on the room around you, just your hatred. It will help.” A pause. “Do you trust me?”  
  
Silence.  
  
“Yes,” Terminus said. “For my part.”  
  
And even feeling the waves of hatred beginning to flow from Terminus, Vader couldn’t help but be almost shocked by the sheer strength of it. The anger. Hatred for those who had taken Ahsoka Tano from him, for example. Vader could already ache for him. It reminded him far too well of someone else he knew, a boy who missed his mother and missed her still.  
  
He knew that he couldn’t interfere in the healing process. And yet he wished he could, if only to take away Terminus’ pain.  
  
Eventually, it stopped, and Terminus sighed if only in relief. “Well,” he said, “That worked better than I expected.”  
  
“It tends to,” Vader said. Then he faltered. “And I’m sorry.”  
  
“For what?”  
  
“For everything you lost.”  
  
“There is no need,” Terminus said. “It was...” He seemed to falter. “All for the best, at least. All for the best.”  
  
Vader supposed he was right. And yet looking at the remnants of the burns on his skin...Terminus seemed at least to be restored to full health, but the scars remained. Vader supposed it was appropriate. He hadn’t realized how much Obi-Wan Kenobi had suffered, and yet now...now he knew.  
  
It was one of those moments that he wished that he had the Force powers if only to make everything all right again. But he knew it wasn’t the truth. Sith and Dark Jedi, after all, didn’t get happy endings.  
  
They couldn’t really create them either.  
  
At least that was how the saying went.  
  
And yet Vader was determined, more than ever, for it to be proven wrong. To overthrow Sidious and make everything right. No more slavery on Tatooine, no more war or disease. He still remembered something that his mother had said long ago, about the greatest problem in the universe being that no one helped each other, and even remembering it made his heart ache.  
  
He would do all this if only to honor the dead – their own and otherwise. It was only right. It could at least help him atone for what he had done.  
  
And from there...from there, everything could be made right again.


	31. Epilogue: How We Lived

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things come full circle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. 
> 
> Author's Notes: Happy New Year's Eve, everyone!

So, we’ve come to the end of the story. I can’t help but at least somewhat applaud you for staying with me even as the story was told; I already said that it wasn’t a happy story, and that seemed at least to prove it. I never expected, at least, that the Clone Wars would end the way they did. I had no delusions that it would end with a sort of “everybody lives” sort of ending, but I expected, at least, that after the Clone Wars that everything would be made right again.

I can’t say that I was really right. After all, I didn’t expect Petro to die, or Katooni, or Ahsoka, or so many others – not necessarily at the same time, but spread out all over the timeline of the Clone Wars, almost as if strategically placed. And considering Sidious, I can only conclude that was the point.

I didn’t expect one of the people I looked up to so highly to be a traitor either. And not just a traitor, but the Sith Lord, if only to make things worse. I didn’t expect my mentor to turn to his side either.

And yet as in all things, there are still glimmers of hope.

Sabe managed to give birth to her children. Mara and Ben Kenobi. We decided to at least go to a secluded place if only for their own good – to split them up as well. Sending Ben to Alderaan, and Mara to Tatooine. I doubt that Darth Terminus is the sentimental type, after all. I doubt that he’s going to come around looking for them if only for a revisiting of cherished memories.

Master Yoda is now on Dagobah. I can still remember going to Dagobah once. I suppose that he’s hiding there if only because I doubt that’s where Terminus would look either. And I...I’m staying on Tatooine if only to look after Kara. It’s the least that I can do. And learning from the spirit of Qui Gon Jinn; I never imagined that I would see him again, and yet here I am, learning from him. Learning from him as I might have, so long ago.

I don’t regret learning from Obi-Wan. But I wish I had known Qui Gon better, at the very least.

Bail is on Alderaan, raising Ben as his own, mentoring him. A moisture farmer family known as the Larses are raising Mara. Though she is almost as impulsive and defiant as Sabe, she still has a bit of her father in her to balance her out, and a sort of life that I’ve seen in Sabe a lot. She has her father’s hair and eyes as well; at least, it’s a sort of consolation that Obi-Wan still lives on in his children.

She’s still very young, that much is clear. But when she’s older, perhaps I’ll tell her everything. I’ll tell her about a Queen that, even though she was only fourteen years old, managed to repel the Federation occupation of Naboo almost flawlessly. I’ll tell her about one of the best Jedi Knights who ever lived, and two of the best men who ever lived. I’ll tell her about the liberation of Onderon, and the brotherhood between the Clones, and saving the rightful king of Onderon. I’ll tell her if only to show her that there is a better way of living your life than simply being a moisture farmer.

Because if anything, though I trust Owen and Beru to raise her to the last, I worry for her nonetheless. I can only ask Owen not to repress her. Don’t force her into a role she doesn’t fit, Owen. At one point, you are going to have to let her go. It’s like that with all children; they can break your heart, especially when you have to let them go. But there are some people that are worth the heartbreak, and I believe Mara and Ben are these people.

It’s said that the dark is generous, and patient, and that it always wins. But if there’s any weakness in it, it’s this: it’s a lack of understanding. Because for every shadow, there’s one lone candle that can hold it back.

Love...love is more than a candle. Love, they say, can ignite the stars. 


End file.
